The Octopus
by gluegirl56
Summary: Post "Sweet Revenge". Seven months after the shooting at the BCPD DS Dave Starsky is almost back to his normal self and ready to team up with Hutch again. However, when the big day comes, other problems arises and suddenly both Starsky and Hutch find themselves in a situation where nothing else matters than to stay alive. Warning OC's are a big part of the story!
1. Chapter 1

**Starsky and Hutch – The Octopus**

 _Disclaimer:_ Starsky and Hutch is not my creation and doesn't belong to me. I just want to play around with the characters for a while. No infringement of rights intended, this is written for fun and hopefully for the amusement of fellow writers.

 _Characters:_ Starsky and Hutch

 _Genre:_ Hurt/comfort, crime, drama, friendship, angst

 _Time/Spoilers:_ "Sweet Revenge" related and set at the end of the recovery period. It also helps if you've seen "A Coffin for Starsky" and "The Plague."

 _Summary:_ Seven months after the almost fatal shooting in the parking area at the BCPD DS Dave Starsky is almost back to his normal self. Despite the doctors predictions about not being able to get back on the streets he's only got one obstacle left to get past – the Police Doctor. However, when the big day comes, other problems arises and suddenly both Starsky and Hutch find themselves in a situation where nothing else matters than to stay alive.

 _Beta:_ Kejfe Blintz – thank you so much for your time and invaluable help, for eliminating my mistakes and make this story better!

OOOOOO

 **Chapter One – Back to Bay City**

Doctor John Meredith sighed deeply, inhaling the somewhat chilly morning air outside Bay City airport. Despite the early spring, temperatures had been rising to hit the record marks and it felt like the early summer. The lean, good looking doctor looked around with a frown until his eyes settled on his much younger colleague, Doctor Judith Kaufman. She walked briskly toward him, having collected her suitcase, the small wheels of the hard cased bag echoing in the tight space of the tarmac and glass arrivals hall.

"There you are," Doctor Meredith said. "I wondered where you'd got to."

Judith flashed him a dazzling smile, her curls bumping on her shoulders as she gently slapped his shoulder. Having worked together for almost eight years now, her having started out as a pupil to him, they had developed a close father and daughter relationship.

"I had to wait for my bag and when I finally found it, you'd disappeared," she explained as he opened the door for her.

They stepped out on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab to come and pick them up.

"It looks the same, nothing has changed in three years. Even the flower arrangements here at the airport haven't changed." Judith said with a smile. "I wonder…"

Whatever she'd intended to say to her colleague got abruptly cut off as a police cruiser, which had been standing to the side, suddenly turned on the siren and began a wild dash down the street.

"Well, at least there's no major outbreaks of any unknown viruses this time," Doctor Meredith returned with a twinkle in his eye as he turned to her. The police car accelerating down the street involuntarily sent him back to events three years prior.

"No, thank heavens it's only a seminar. It's going to be nice to sit down and listen for a change," Judith admitted. "Maybe have a nice time and do some sightseeing as we're not here to work?"

"Maybe catch up with some old acquaintances?" The senior doctor asked with a slightly teasing undertone.

"John," Judith said feigning a look of surprise before she broke into a grin and confessed. "I do wonder what Ken and Dave are doing nowadays."

OOOOOO

Jo-Anne Fields was tired, tired of having to turn every penny, tired of not being able to have enough money in her pocket. She was a good looking woman in her early forties but she also knew that the older she got the less attractive she would become. Occasionally she'd been able to sweet talk herself on a nice vacation with a handsome man to a beach far away but she'd never managed to keep a man. Unfortunately she lacked the intelligence to see what she was doing wrong every time. Some claimed she was selfish, uncaring of others, lazy and every now and then someone told her she was too heavily into gambling for her own good.

Determined to break bad habits she'd cut down on the games she played, she'd even paid some of her debts. Unfortunately some loan sharks where harder to shake than others. However, when she got a job as a caretaker of a wealthy yet permanently injured man she became confident that everything would be all right.

The months flew by and, occasionally, she had great fun with the man but sometimes the duties disgusted her. She fed him when necessary – he couldn't on a bad day, she helped him in the bathroom when it was required and she cooked for him. On a good day she took him to the cinema. Outwards, to his friends and, even to some of hers, it looked like they were a perfect match. Feeling that he was slowly taking the life out of her she became desperate to do something in order to get away. At the same time the man was nice to her, sweet even and it made her decision so much harder.

Then one day, in early February, he'd called her to his bedside and asked her if she would like to tour the African continent with him and that she'd see it as a gift for being his friend. Of course she'd have to help him while on vacation but if that was a price she was willing to pay the trip would be arranged.

For the first time in months Jo-Anne was truly happy. She would get away from the monotonous life of Bay City's richer quarters, away from the loans, away from prying eyes. She promised herself that when she got back she'd start anew.

However, as usual for Jo-Anne, things never did go as she planned. Despite taking care of Daniel, who sat on a fortune, inherited from his parents, she didn't get any of it and her pay was well within the limits set for the job. It was then she'd started to flirt with Daniel's bank accountant – Mr. Irish.

Wrapping the man around her little finger she convinced him to take enough money from Daniel's account for her to pay off every loan she'd acquired. On that day, she finished work, walked up to Daniel, kissed his forehead and said goodbye. She left with his fortune.

OOOOOO

Captain Harold Dobey looked up from the file on his desk to cast a glance at the clock. Tiredly he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. It was still early in the morning but he had got little sleep during the night. Rosie had been sick and Edith had divided her time between their bedroom and Rosie's room across the hallway. Dobey inhaled deeply and blinked several times, trying to clear his head a bit. He reached for the cup of coffee standing on his desk but stopped himself short on drinking it as he realized it had been almost an hour since he brought it to his office from the squad room.

He put down the cup again and rearranged the papers on his desk. He had a lot to do, it seemed reports where dropping in like there was no tomorrow and the chief of police was onto him about statistics. His eyes lingered on a report completed by Detective Sergeant Hutchinson. A case where he and his former partner, David Starsky, had worked undercover to flush out a dealer. They'd outdone themselves and brought in not only the main man but several others as well.

Then came the whole mess with Gunther and the attempt on their lives. Dobey's eyes darkened and his mood turned sombre as he thought back.

To the police captain it was a small miracle that David Starsky didn't die there on that day back in August. Every medically trained professional had told him and Hutch, and the rest of the police force members waiting for news, that he was too damaged to survive.

Dobey involuntarily shuddered as he glanced toward the window of his office. He could still hear the shots, could still picture the young detective lying motionless in the parking lot when he looked through the window. The blood - there had been so much of it. He remembered Hutch frantically trying to help his partner as several uniform officers circled them in order to shield them from any more harm.

He remembered the action it triggered on the streets. The shooters had stirred a hornet's nest, attacking a police officer at their own backyard. Every available unit was out, furiously looking for the men dressed like officers, and those who didn't, followed the ambulance to the Memorial Hospital to see how Starsky was faring.

The radio and television reporters went crazy as they got hold of the story. Some of them even tried to get to Starsky and then to Hutch in order for a comment.

Seven months had passed since then and the man behind it, James Gunther, had been sentenced. Hutch oversaw the trial, testified against him and convinced several thugs in the low supply chain of the Gunther Corporation to come forward. He had been rewarded by a heavy sentence to which Gunther couldn't buy himself free from. However, even if that was a triumph in itself it still didn't save David Starsky the agony and pain that Gunther had brought upon him.

Dobey knew Starsky and he knew that the man would do everything he could, even if it meant he had to fight tooth and nail for it, in order to get back into shape and rejoin Hutch. Unfortunately, Dobey also knew that after the damage Starsky's body had sustained and despite the speedy recovery – if you could call seven months a speedy recovery - there was a very strong possibility that he would not be able to regain his former job.

The police captain turned his head slightly to his left and reached for another folder sitting alone at the end of the desk. He carefully opened it, staring at a photograph and into the deep blue eyes of one First Class Detective Sergeant David Starsky. The folder contained several new facts, some of it typed while others had been hastily scribbled down on scraps of paper attached to the set of papers inside. One of the notes made Dobey's mood plummet. It was a green note and written in blue ink was one capitalized word; discharge.

OOOOOO

Detective Constable Rawlins discreetly grabbed for the handle to steady himself as Hutch rallied around the corner, the tires of his old, worn and battered, Ford Galaxie screeching.

The younger man's right foot unconsciously pressing against the floor on the passenger side of the car as if to try and brake as they neared the accident site that 'Zebra Three' had been called to.

Several uniformed officers and the state coroner was already on location. Officers carefully swept the place, looking for hidden clues while the doctor rose from his kneeling position next to a battered woman and disposed of his gloves.

Doctor Charles Murphy, or 'Doctor Dead' as Starsky often called him, glanced up from the grim scene in front of him as Hutch made his way over to him with Rawlins in tow.

"Hey, doc, what have we got here?" Hutch asked grimly.

"A pretty straight forward case, at least from my point of view," the short and balding doctor returned. "This woman, appearing to be approximately forty years old, bared the brunt of a blunt object to her head. Her skull is fractured. I'd say it was intended from the attacker's point of view but as to who that might be and why I'll leave to you."

Hutch's lips twisted upwards at the doctor's way of delivering the grim news in a soft and yet caring way. "Thanks doc," he said.

"Listen, Hutch. I didn't know you'd returned to duty?" The kind, round doctor said.

"I've only been back on the streets for a couple of days," the blond First Class Detective Sergeant confessed. "Perhaps it's what I need? It's just that I keep looking to my side and expect Starsky to be there."

Doctor Murphy pursed his lips into a thin line and turned his gaze to the ground for a moment as if contemplating what to say. Then he returned his focus to Hutch, his face looking awfully serious for the otherwise easy going coroner.

"Look, I know you've heard it before and I bet Dave would throw something at me if he heard me say this but it needs to be said. He's a very lucky man; you both are. Believe me, Hutch, I may not be a practicing doctor in a sense of saving lives but I have the qualification for it. Given the amount of damage done to your partner's body by the automatic gunfire, he should not have been able to survive, let alone recover to the extent that he would be able to take his place next to you as a plain clothed detective," Murphy said gravely.

Hutch swallowed at the doctor's words and took a deep, somewhat shaky breath. "It's that last part I'm afraid of," he let on. "And I'm not the only one."

OOOOOO

/To be continued – I would love to hear from you ;)


	2. Start Anew

_**AN:**_ _Wow, look at the response/feedback to this fic! You're truly amazing – thanks for all the reviews and encouragement. I hope this chapter won't disappoint._

OOOOOO

 **Chapter Two – Start Anew**

OOOOOO

Tracy Coressy sighed as the phone rang. She didn't have time for it, didn't want to be nice to anyone at the moment. She'd just ended a late shift back at the hospital as a staff nurse. And today had been one of those days that made you want to crawl up in your bed, pull the covers up over your head and sleep.

"Hello, Tracy speaking," she managed cheerfully.

She frowned as no one said anything and contemplated putting the phone down but then she thought she'd heard something.

"Hello?" she tried again. "Is anyone there?"

 _"Jo-Anne,"_ a raspy voice finally said.

"No, I'm sorry but you've got the wrong number," Tracy said politely.

 _"No,"_ the voice at the other end grew stronger. _"Tracy."_

"Who is this?" she demanded. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

 _"Please,"_ the voice begged. _"I'm Daniel. I miss Jo-Anne…she said you were a friend."_

"Daniel?" Tracy asked curiously. "You're the…" she faltered as she realized she was about to say retarded and rephrased the statement in her mind. "You're the man Jo-Anne has been talking about so much?"

 _"Please, is she there?"_ Daniel asked. _"It's not fun anymore. I don't know what I have done but I promise to apologize anyway. I just want her by my side – I need her."_

Alarm bells started ringing in the nurse's head at his words. Jo-Anne had said they would tour the continent for three weeks and that was a month ago by now. "Look, Daniel. I haven't seen Jo-Anne in four weeks but now I'm getting really worried, not just about her but of you too. How long have you been on your own?"

 _"Twenty-four hours,"_ he managed weakly. _"I can't…"_ he began but never finished the sentence.

The eventful day at the hospital forgotten Tracy quickly grabbed her car keys that lay on the counter next to the phone. "Hold on Daniel, I know where you live, just keep it together for a little while longer," she urged him.

OOOOOO

Harold Dobey cursed the candy slot machine as it refused to reward him with a candy bar after he'd been feeding it with a dime. He gave it a light kick just as a familiar voice spoke up from further down the corridor.

"Stay away from the candy machine, Captain," Starsky admonished with a cunning grin.

"Take your smart ass remarks and…" he began angrily as the curly haired detective walked up to stand opposite him.

They looked at each other for a moment before embracing each other in a quick hug, Dobey slapping Starsky on the back. "So good to see you, son," he said, unable to keep the emotions out of his voice.

"Good to be back, Captain," Starsky drawled lazily as they let go of each other. "Now, what can I do?"

"You just sit on your ass, fill in the various forms required for light duty and get some sort of order on your reports," Dobey ordered sternly as he refocused on the machine and gave it a final shove.

"Where is the fun in that?" Starsky whined, hands on his hips.

"Don't push your luck," Dobey threatened as the candy bar finally rolled out.

OOOOOO

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when Doctor Judith Kaufman shifted lightly in her seat, trying to get more comfortable in the wooden chair at the hospital's large conference room. They were halfway through the seminar and what had begun as an interesting three day stint was rapidly becoming very boring. The first day had been fun with the breakthroughs in her field told from the frontline and the dinner party afterwards. However, what was being discussed now was yesterday's news, things that she'd already been practicing for some time. Occasionally the discussions had raised her interest but not enough to stop her mind from wandering.

Judith dared a sideway glance at her colleague and smirked as she noticed that Doctor Meredith too looked rather bored. Luckily it was only an hour till a much needed break was due. Her mind kept drifting and, not for the first time, she found herself wondering what Ken and Dave were doing. She had actually, between the tight schedules of the first day, called both of them but no one had answered. John had suggested that they were on a stake out or working late, they were after all police detectives.

OOOOOO

Nurse Tracy Coressy drove through the large main gate to Daniel's residence and pulled up next to the large wooden double door that marked the entrance to the house. Knowing where Jo-Anne kept the spare key it didn't take long for her to get inside. She localized the permanently damaged man rather quickly where he sat sagging in a chair next to the phone.

"Daniel?" Tracy asked softly as she knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

The man, roughly around thirty five years old, with good looks, slowly tilted his head upward to look at her. When he finally recognized her his glazed eyes sparked with gratitude and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"You came," he exclaimed, yet his voice was no higher than a whisper.

Tracy pursed her lips into thin line of displeasure at the state the man was in but then forced a smile for his sake. "Of course I came, Daniel…" she trailed off hesitantly realizing she didn't really know him that well. "It is all right if I call you Daniel?"

Daniel Gordon let out a low chuckle. "I'm not one to prompt on surnames, especially not with such a beautiful woman," he let on weakly.

Tracy grinned, unable to resist his charm despite his rather rumpled appearance. "Now, first things first," she admonished him mischievously. "Let's get you to the Memorial and have you checked out."

The smile on Daniel's lips disappeared at the mention of the hospital. "No, please. I've had enough of that place during the years – that and the lovely rehabilitation center uptown," he said.

"You're obviously ill, Daniel," Tracy returned trying to get him to understand.

"I've caught a bug or something down in Africa. I'm sure it'll get better soon," he reasoned. "Look, Tracy. I'm more than a little worried about Jo-Anne. I was expecting her ages ago but I didn't want to call the police. I know she's been in trouble before and she's been so nice and everything has been going so well for her…"

"None of her problems should be brought upon you, never believe that, Daniel. Jo-Anne has had a few tough years and met some pretty strange people. I'd be lying if I told you I haven't contemplated ending our friendship at times but deep down she's a good person," Tracy chuckled nervously, wringing her hands as she continued. "Forgive my ramblings. Anyway, I do suggest we call the police because this isn't like her. However, before we do that, let's get you to bed and tuck you in. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like the plan, Tracy. For I can call you Tracy can't I?" he asked hopefully.

The nurse smiled, smitten by his charming ways and positive attitude. "How can I say no to such a lovely gentleman," she replied. "But, please try to understand that if your fever isn't better sometime tomorrow I have to bring you to the hospital."

"I've survived worse things," he let on. "Please, Tracy, call the police and have them find Jo-Anne for me."

OOOOOO

Huggy looked up from his rolling shop of merchandise next to the corner of Beach Boulevard and 2nd Avenue, one of the richer areas in the city, as a battered Ford Galaxie drove up beside him.

"Looking a little lost here, Hug," Hutch teased from the driver's seat.

"So does your car, man," the thin black man returned with a smirk.

Hutch's face fell as he heard a snort from the passenger seat and glanced over at his temporary partner. "Hey, don't you even start," he said angrily.

Rawlins threw up his hands in muck surrender unable to prevent the chuckle escaping him.

Huggy shook his head sadly although on his lips a smile was still dancing. There was something seriously wrong with the picture in front of him. Not that he was pleased that Hutch seemed to be back to a more normal standard and occasionally he even laughed for real but Huggy never could get used to see Hutch alone, or with someone else beside him than Starsky. There was nothing wrong with young Rawlins, he'd probably be a fine detective sergeant when his time came but he wasn't David Starsky. Huggy sobered up and stopped walking, forcing Hutch to come to a full stop, and then turned to really look at the pair of detectives.

"Look, my blond friend, was there anything you wanted other than insult a man trying to make up for his expensive life?" Huggy asked casually.

Hutch snorted. "Is the bar business going badly or something?" he returned.

"No one, except for the winos, drink this early in the day and I was finished with my orders. Basically I got bored, wanted someone to talk to and socialize a little on the streets. You know how it is," the police informant returned with a shrug.

"Jo-Anne Fields," Hutch said.

Huggy made a face. "Nah, the name says nothing to me. Why?" he asked curiously.

"Some kids found her under the Coastal Bridge early this morning. Her life couldn't be saved. The robbery squad transferred the case to our department and the coroner just confirmed the exact cause of death. Luckily for us she'd been involved in a case a couple of years ago so we still had her fingerprints," Hutch explained.

"Involved, as in doing time in the slammer?" Huggy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, nothing like that. Cut it out would you? There are different shades of dodgy people, not all of them are gangsters," the blond detective said.

The bar owner appeared to be deep in thought for a while then broke into a grin. "Was she into money laundering?" he asked.

The detectives looked at each other, both frowning, before Hutch refocused his attention on his friend. "You tell me, that's not the crime she was involved in," he returned. "But it involved money."

"I suppose appearance can easily change but she was a woman. I mean a real woman with good looks. Long straight dark brown hair and large brown eyes. A little too skinny perhaps…" Huggy Bear said dreamingly.

Hutch narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I thought you said you didn't know anyone by that name?"

"I didn't think so at first but the more I think about it…Anyway to make a long story short. I saw her once and only once. That was at a large party hosted by some hot shot called Mr. Han. He was deep into the money business, man," Huggy warned.

Rawlins spoke up. "Didn't Lieutenant Hawkins' men bust that guy a while back? Broke the supply chain of command of his business too. As I remember it he used to deal the good stuff."

"Now, what I want to know, Hug, is what you were doing on that party and why I haven't heard about it before?" Hutch asked.

"She was nervous," the lanky man returned, ignoring the detective's last remark. "Didn't seem at ease at all at the party. She came with some creep called Mr. Irish?"

"Mr. Irish?" Hutch asked with a raised eyebrow. "The highly respected bank accountant?"

Huggy nodded. "A bit strange isn't it?" he wondered aloud.

"I wonder what the connection between Mr. Han and Mr. Irish is," Rawlins mused from the passenger seat. "Come to think about it, wasn't there charges brought against him too?"

"Anyway, that Han fella and his bunch are a lot of trouble," Huggy cautioned. "They didn't call him 'the Octopus' for nothing. Despite doing time he's still got connections."

"Tell me about it," the blond detective returned sourly. "The chief of the chief is furious about the organized bunch of criminals. He's making Dobey's life miserable at the moment and it's taken out on us poor detectives."

Hutch turned his attention from Huggy to Rawlins. "Mr. Irish is a smart man, Rawlins, the evidence of his possible involvement in the Octopus Corporation is circumstantial at best."

OOOOOO

"The Octopus and Mr. Irish?" Dobey said sarcastically. "And now you think there's a connection between the two of them and the murder of Jo-Anne Fields? That's all I need."

"Look, if it is somehow connected to Jo-Anne's death we might finally have something reliable enough to go on," Starsky reasoned as he got out of his chair and headed for the coffee machine. "Why don't I take a look into it?"

Dobey huffed sourly as he sat down on the edge of Hutch's desk. "I thought I told you to take care of your reports and to take it easy?" he said.

Starsky looked up from the file about the Octopus Corporation he was skimming through, his stance annoyed. "It's not like there's much to do Captain. I mean Hutch's done a pretty good job and I haven't been here for about seven months," he returned.

"The fact is, Starsky, that you shouldn't be here at all yet," Dobey cautioned to the hot tempered detective sitting down opposite him. He held up a hand in order to stave off the argument he knew would follow. "I had real trouble getting you back to light duty and to convince the chief that you would be a good boy and sit behind your desk and not run off on some wild goose chase."

"I…" the curly haired detective began in a steely voice.

"I wasn't finished," Dobey countered in a no nonsense voice. "Damn you, Starsky, seven months ago I thought you would die!"

The constant raising of the captain's voice until the last word was shouted at the young man in front of him caused several of the officers in the duty room to turn their heads.

Dobey calmed down a little, looking directly into Starsky's blue eyes. "I know you want out there to be with your partner, to get into the action again but until the police doctor tells me that you're ready for it I can't let you. Do you understand?" he said seriously.

Starsky clamped his mouth shut and tightened his jaw as he broke eye contact with his superior.

"Do you understand?" Dobey pushed.

The usually cocky, curly haired, detective inhaled sharply as he once again focused on the captain. He was angry, Dobey could tell, but he wisely held his tongue. Instead of raising his voice or just simply march out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, he swallowed, his face a mask, hiding the conflicted emotions Dobey knew he must be feeling.

"It's not that easy, Captain," Starsky finally said, his voice flat as he got out of the chair and slipped through the doors quietly.

Dobey muttered a curse under his breath and unconsciously balled his hand into a fist. He knew what Starsky probably had guessed. The medical department of the police force didn't think he had it in him, didn't think his body could withstand the pressure anymore. The fact was that Dobey didn't know if he could either. And Starsky behind a desk, that was just wrong.

The captain had a soft spot for the New Yorker and his blond companion and he would miss them terribly if they decided to leave. Because, there was no doubt in mind, that should it be decided that Starsky no longer met the requirements to be on the streets and got desk duty or an honorable discharge from the force, Hutchinson would go with him.

OOOOOO

To be continued


	3. Downplaying Symptoms

**Chapter Three – Downplaying Symptoms**

OOOOOO

"There he is!" DC Rawlins said as he pointed toward the junction of third and main.

"Let's have a chat," Hutch suggested as he spun the wheel, heading for the bank accountant.

Mr. Irish glanced over his shoulder, looking very disinterested at their appearance. He grimaced at the sound of a car horn going off as Rawlins got out of the battered car.

"If I were you, Detective Hutchinson, I would do something about that car of yours," the well clad man suggested.

"Funny, Irish," Hutch replied as he walked up next to him.

"Well, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked curiously.

"Rumor has it that you're involved in 'the Octopus' shady business," the blond detective said casually with a shrug.

"Well, you know how it is with rumors, they're never true," the short, burly man with sand colored hair returned with a cunning smile. "About half a year ago some reporter claimed that that persistent curly haired partner of yours died."

In the blink of an eye Hutch was on to him, pressing him up against the wall. The detective's hold so hard across Irish's windpipe that had Rawlins not interfered he could easily have severely injured him.

"Hey, hey!" Rawlins shouted. "Hutch, break it up!"

The young DC grabbed the DS, fighting to get him off the suspected crock until Hutch finally let go of him willingly.

Hutch was seething as he angrily bent down to stab a finger at the shorter man who now sat on his knees with his hands on his thighs, desperately struggling to breathe.

"If you ever, ever, say anything like that about Starsk again…" he began then let the sentence hung in the air.

Irish chuckled lightly then became serious again and his voice took on a threatening tone. "I'll report you for this, Hutchinson. That's police brutality," he said.

Rawlins reached out with his hand and dragged the man up on his feet. "Get out of here, Irish," he suggested.

"You saw what he did," the bank accountant demanded.

"I haven't seen anything, Mr. Irish," Rawlins chose his words carefully. "I had the sun in my eyes."

OOOOOO

Tracy gently wiped Daniel's forehead with a cloth. The fever was still raging his body and refused to let go. He wasn't getting better, if anything he was getting worse. She had no choice – she had to bring him to the hospital whether he liked it or not. The nurse had the next few days off since she'd been on nightshift two days in a row so she wouldn't leave him. She called the ambulance service and within the next ten minutes the bus and two paramedics arrived at the door.

She helped them get him on a stretcher and spoke softly to the semiconscious man through the fifteen minute ride to her working place.

Doctor Phillips awaited them in the bay as the ambulance pulled up. "Tracy?" he questioned in surprise. "I didn't know you worked privately nowadays."

"This is Daniel Gordon. He called me yesterday since he was worried, not about himself, but of his caretaker Jo-Anne," she explained. "He made me promise not to bring him in until today if his fever hadn't broken."

"I see," Phillips said gravely. "And that was a wise decision?"

"I'm sorry Doctor Phillips but I thought it would sort itself out. Daniel's been in and out of hospitals for a very long time so I can understand that he wants to avoid the place," she explained.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Phillips asked curiously as they both followed the stretcher as it was being wheeled into the ER unit.

"I can't give you every detail there is but I know that Mr. Gordon was involved in a serious accident a couple of years ago. Apparently he was somewhat of a playboy back then…"

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her.

"He has no family left, his parents died in a helicopter crash a year before. It left him severely depressed and very rich. I believe in the beginning that the last part was what brought my friend to him," Tracy said bitterly.

Doctor Phillips listened as he at the same time performed a quick examination of the man. "I want a battery of tests taken on Mr. Gordon here," he ordered at another nurse standing opposite the bed, assisting him.

The doctor then turned to the nurse who'd brought in the man. "You're not making much sense, Tracy," he admitted.

"Jo-Anne, a friend of mine, is his caretaker. He's suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury in an automotive accident. That's all I know. Unfortunately that alone makes this case a tricky one. He gets exhausted just by walking a short distance and sometimes he can't even dress by himself. 'The TBI comes and goes as Jo-Anne said. Some days are better than others. I know that the fever is not caused by his decreased ability to function properly in everyday life but I can't tell what else is due to whatever bug he's picked up or the injury," she finished.

"Why don't we find out?" Doctor Phillips asked. "I'll pull his medical file and contact his regular specialists."

OOOOOO

"Are you out of your mind?" Dobey asked incredulously as he stared at Hutch who plopped down in his chair opposite Starsky. "You go out there to rattle a suspect's cage, a suspect who happens to be well respected inside the bank, and you end up being filed for police brutality!"

Hutch rubbed his eyes tiredly then raked a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Captain," he said lamely.

"What's that?" Dobey questioned.

"I said I'm sorry," Hutch returned angrily.

"What I like about you, Hutchinson, is that you usually see things clearly, usually keep your head cool. Want to tell me what happened that made you lose that?" Dobey asked in annoyance.

Hutch cast a sideway glance at Starsky. "Not particularly," he muttered.

"Fine, I'll let it go for the time being," Dobey returned. "But I'm telling you, the Chief is going to hit the roof. Now, get out of here, take the rest of day off and take him with you," Dobey nodded at Starsky.

"Irish is involved in…" Hutch began fiercely.

"Not now Hutchinson," Dobey interrupted, not the least amused. "You're a pain in the ass, both of you. I have enough shit to handle as it is. Rawlins stays here and goes through the events of the day with me. Now, get out!"

Starsky leaned forward in his chair as Dobey slammed the door shut behind him. "Boy, what got him so worked up?" he asked.

Hutch sighed. He didn't want to get off work just yet. He felt they were on to something big this time.

"Are you in there?" Starsky asked concerned as he nudged his partner by the shoulder.

Hutch jumped slightly, silently wondering when his partner had sneaked around the desk. "Yeah, just deep in thought," he admitted.

"Come on, walk with me," Starsky said as he grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the chair.

Hutch couldn't help but smile at his partner as he followed him out of the squad room and down the corridor. It was like Starsky had never left. It was just natural for him to sit on his chair, complaining over reports, to argue with their captain, to argue with him. Hutch felt privileged to have him back. He counted the days till they could ride together in the striped tomato again.

"Hold your horses, Starsk," he whined slightly at the brisk pace his partner had set up. "Tired of this place already?"

"I thought there would be a little more action around here," he returned. "I'm telling you, sitting behind my desk the whole day", he cast a quick glance at his wristwatch – "Well, half the day, is enough to drive me crazy."

"Okay, so why don't I drive you home?" Hutch suggested kindly. "Let's order some pizza and talk through the day and see what we could come up with?"

Starsky slowed and turned to look at his slightly taller partner and chuckled. "Your car is a disaster zone, has no one told you that?" he asked. "I know you probably wanted it to be a surprise but Merle phoned earlier and said she was finished."

Hutch stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What was?"

Starsky rolled his eyes. "Come on dummy, my Gran Torino of course," he replied. "He's given her the all clear. Apparently she's in tip top condition."

"Should be after so many months," Hutch muttered under his breath, not loud enough for his partner to hear.

"You SOB, you told me they'd scrapped her," he chatted happily on. "I've been looking for a new one all this time."

Hutch nodded slightly as he was involuntarily drawn back to the events after the shooting.

OOOOOO

At first, when Starsk had been severely injured, Hutch hadn't even thought about the car but then as he went back to the precinct a few days later, to tie up everything around the shooting and Gunther's arrest, one of the CSI's had approached him.

Pictures of the car would be used as evidence at the trial and every bullet had been extracted from it so they had no more use for the battered Torino itself. Hutch had walked out in the parking lot and found the once shining and white striped Ford Gran Torino parked in the same place Starsky had put it several days before.

The blood on the ground had been washed away by the heavy rain fall the day before and the shattered glass on the ground had been taken care of. The car was the only thing that hinted of the terrible events that had taken place only a few days before.

Hesitantly Hutch had walked up to it and gently caressed the red bodywork. He let his fingers trace the line of bullet holes and gasped as the jagged edges of the steel cut his fingers. He stared at the small trail of blood coming from the tip of his index finger, almost mesmerized by it. He broke out of his reverie and inhaled deeply to let out a shaky breath. The car was scrap and ready for the junkyard – she had fared no better than her owner.

He reached for the handle and cursed as the door wouldn't open. At first he thought it was locked but then he gave it a shove and it popped open. Gently he wiped the black leather seat with his sleeve, mindful of the shattered glass inside, and his took place behind the wheel. He sat there for a long time, lost in memories.

After a while he heard someone approaching and he shook out of his daydreaming to see Harold Dobey walk up to him. The captain leaned in through the broken window, a set of keys hanging loosely around his finger.

"The lieutenant in charge of the crime scene investigation gave it to me," Dobey explained sadly. "I didn't know what to do with it."

Hutch picked it up and carefully put the key into ignition. "Starsk would want to have it back once he's out," he said as if in a daze.

"They told me she's ready for the junkyard," the captain said quietly.

"The doctors told us Starsk was dying," Hutch returned coldly, his ice blue eyes boring into the soul of his superior officer.

Dobey could only nod. "I'm glad they were wrong," he answered. "So, what are you going to do with it?"

"Don't know. Run the matter through the insurance company, talk with the bank, and leave it with Merle. Somehow, I'm going to fix it up – for Starsk," Hutch said with determination as he turned the key.

The powerful engine came to life almost immediately. It was as if the car was not aware of the injuries it had sustained.

"Maybe you should call a tow truck?" Dobey suggested.

"No, I'm going to drive it there and if some rookie traffic cop wants to bust me for ignoring traffic regulations I'm going to flash my badge in their faces and tell them to stick to their own business," he returned as he put the car into gear.

OOOOOO

"What's with you today, Hutch, I'm getting worried," Starsky said breaking through the flashback in Hutch's mind.

"I was thinking about that pizza we are going to have," he said with a faint smile.

Starsky eyed him suspiciously, not believing a word of it. "Sure you were," he drawled as he resumed his walk through the corridors, picking up some speed, suddenly eager to get to his red and white baby.

Hutch breathed a sigh of relief and then quickly followed.

Now, Detective Sergeant David Starsky wasn't afraid of anything except perhaps heights, at least that's what he kept telling himself. However, as they neared the glass doors to the backyard of the BCPD building he slowed his pace. Anyone who looked hard enough could see that his shoulders slumped. There was an uncertainty in his steps that had never been there before and he took a deep, shaky breath.

"Starsk?" Hutch said softly as he gently put a hand on his partners shoulder. "Are you okay?"

His curly haired friend let out a somewhat nervous mixture of a snort and a laugh. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked casually.

"You know what I mean," Hutch returned kindly, concern evident in his soft voice.

And Starsky did know what he meant, silently cursing Hutch for knowing him so well. It all came back to him, crashing down on him, constricting his chest, almost halting him in mid-step as his hand reached the cold steel handle of the door separating them from the sunny parking area outside.

He remembered how happy he'd been that day, how he was looking forward to calling in the bet he'd won from Hutch. How unprepared he'd been for what was to take place. He remembered walking out that day, teasing Hutch, taking out his set of keys from his pocket. Then the scraping sound behind him and Hutch's panicked voice urging him to get down. His own incomprehension of what was really going on until it was too late. Acting on instinct rather than following Hutch's order he reached for his gun not anticipating that the man in the car had a machine gun in his hand.

Starsky felt the bullets impacting his chest – one by one, he felt the warm blood oozing through the holes of his broken body. He could still recall bits and pieces of the conversations going on around him. How Hutch had yelled at him, how Dobey had yelled at Hutch and how the paramedics had talked among each other, their voices grim.

At times this entire sequence had awoken him at night, left him shaken and his linen soaked with perspiration. Hutch yelling at him to get down, the screeching tires, the machine gun, his body being thrown backwards by the force of impact, the blood running freely down the pavement and with it -his life.

"Starsk?" Hutch called out again.

"I will be fine," he mumbled, the truth this time, not the standard reply – I'm fine. He was tired of using it.

Taking a deep breath he walked, with Hutch alongside him, to the shining red, white striped, Gran Torino which stood parked in almost the same place as that day seven months ago.

As they neared the back of the car Hutch let go of his partner and headed for the passenger side.

Starsky admonished himself as he noticed that his hand was shaking when he turned the key and unlocked the doors. He glanced over the roof of the car and saw Hutch smiling at him before opening the door, getting into the car.

The curly haired detective reached for the handle, opened the door and got in.

"Feeling okay?" Hutch asked, his voice unable to hide all the concern behind the words.

Starsky turned to him, a faint smile creasing his lips. "Yeah, let's roll," he replied as he fired up the engine.

The engine came to life immediately, the powerful car once again rolling down the line of police cars until it turned around the corner and headed for the streets. With screeching tires the 'striped tomato' was let loose. Starsky's fingers gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles almost turned white. The engine ran smoothly, the wheels had been carefully balanced and the inside of the car had been polished. It felt like the day he'd first gotten to her, the day he'd proudly rolled her out of the car sales shop. Somehow, feeling the slight vibrations in the steering wheel beneath his fingertips, and the rumble of the engine, made him whole again.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _Thank you for the reviews, they're much appreciated ;)_


	4. Danger Ahead

**Chapter Four – Danger Ahead**

OOOOOO

Judith stood up and stretched lazily. The second day of the seminar was finally over. There was a dinner party gathering later but she didn't feel like going. It wasn't that she hadn't had a wonderful night the day before but she'd met everyone now, compared notes and talked about various cases and updated some old colleagues in their recent breakthroughs in modern virus prevention. Now it was time for her to do the sightseeing of the city. She couldn't wait to get out of the large room and find a pay phone so that she could try to hail Ken and Dave again.

"What do you say about the dinner party?" John asked, trying to hide a yawn unsuccessfully.

"No, I don't feel like it at all," she confessed.

"Excuse me," a doctor in his early fifties said politely as he walked up to them. "I believe that we have met before. I'm Doctor Phillips."

John frowned slightly. "Yes, as I recall it was you who oversaw the containment of the mysterious virus that broke out about three years ago," he said.

Phillips reached out to shake their hands. "Yes, that's right. And you're Doctor Meredith and Doctor Kaufman," he stated.

"I have a feeling this is not just a social visit," Judith said carefully.

Phillips shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not," he concurred. "A man was brought in yesterday with high fever, muscle cramps, shortness of breath. I've done every test I can think off and I'm down to the conclusion that he's contracted some kind of virus. Unfortunately, we can't determine the strain from which it originated from. The only thing I do know is that the man has recently been abroad."

"I see," Judith went right on to it. "Well, take us to him and explain more on the way," she said.

Phillips nodded. "You might want to check in with the police department as well," he suggested as they began to walk down the corridor. "I've had some detectives here from homicide. They claim they found the patient's caretaker dead two days ago and are eager to question him."

Judith froze. "Do they know that your patient has contracted some kind of virus and that the caretaker might have been infected too?" she asked worriedly, afraid of another epidemic.

Phillips sighed and absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck. "According to the coroner she died of other causes but they're testing her blood for any kind of foreign body as we speak," he answered.

"The last time we worked over here we had help by Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson," Doctor Meredith said.

Phillips pursed his lip into a thin line. "I don't think they would be able to help you," he let on cryptically.

Judith and John looked at each other in incomprehension.

"Why?" Judith managed.

"I'm afraid that Detective Starsky is on medical leave. Quite frankly, I am amazed that he's even alive after the shooting seven months ago. As for Detective Hutchinson I believe he's taken a leave of absence in order to help his partner," he returned. "I hear certain things from my colleagues every now and then," he added.

Judith swallowed taking in the bad news delivered to them and felt her blood run cold. She must have turned pale because John gently placed a hand on her shoulder, looking very concerned.

OOOOOO

Captain Harold Dobey gave the door to another department head's door a sharp knock before entering.

Captain Samuel Marks jumped slightly where he was sitting behind his desk, having been abruptly pulled from his sleep.

"You should go home to your wife Marks," Dobey said with a nod toward the door.

"You were at the same meeting as I was yesterday were you not?" Marks said as he straightened in his chair. He saw Dobey nod. "Good, then you heard the chief and his rant about the failure on our part to bust the entire Octopus Corporation."

Dobey sighed. "We obviously didn't get all eight arms," he muttered as he sat down opposite the other captain. "Have you got anything?"

Samuel nodded thoughtfully. "Pepe. He's connected, or rather he seem to be the head of what's left of the organized operation of the dealing and stealing that the Octopus Corporation enjoys so much. However, we thought that by busting Mr. Han two months ago after an extensive joint undercover operation with the FBI, we would effectively shut them down."

"You don't want to go for Pepe?" Dobey asked curiously.

"I do but I'm not sure that's a wise thing to do," Marks replied. "If we're missing something again then…" he left the sentence and its meaning unfinished for Dobey to work it out.

"Mr. Irish," he said slowly.

Marks eyed him intently. "I heard the suggestion from Detective Hutchinson earlier," the captain confirmed. "Considering that Starsky and Hutchinson almost singlehandedly brought Gunther to court and got him sentenced I have deep respect for their hunches and informants."

"Well, it came a little too close back then," Dobey returned. "Detective Starsky literally died before being brought back again."

"He's right, you know, Hutchinson. The trouble is that the evidence that might, and I say might, connect Irish to the Octopus Corporation's shady operations are circumstantial at best. In other words – we can't bring him in."

"Too bad," Dobey muttered dourly.

Marks narrowed his eyes as he studied the much larger black man opposite him. "I can't do anything about Mr. Irish but I can rattle the cage a bit. There's supposed to be a large gathering tomorrow at noon. I have enough Intel and officers to organize a little welcome committee. Maybe I even get lucky and manage to bring in most of them," he said carefully.

Dobey raise a questionable eyebrow. "You're asking for my opinion?" he asked.

Marks nodded gravely.

"Go and get Pepe and his henchmen," Dobey returned without hesitation.

OOOOOO

Tracy had been shown to the waiting room and ordered to stay away for a little while. The irony in that lay in the fact that she walked past that waiting room every day while at work and sometimes sat down with worried relatives to give them support.

She chuckled to herself thinking it was crazy she was still at the hospital at all. She couldn't put a finger at it but Daniel Gordon was special somehow. She didn't know him, she'd heard a few things from Jo-Anne, but that was all. Also, Tracy's friendship with Jo-Anne was complicated. They'd met when they were in kindergarten and then it had been on and off. They'd been the best of buddies at high school but then they'd grown apart a little by little and the last time they'd met they'd gotten into an argument.

Tracy closed her eyes to rest for a while unable to stray her thoughts from the good looking man lying in the hospital bed.

Several hours later she was awoken by a soft knock on the doorframe behind her and she slowly blinked tired eyes open only to stare at a woman clad in a white doctor's coat, a dark brunette with a sleek body and unruly curly hair.

"Hello," the woman said in a friendly manner, her voice soft as she sat down next to Tracy in the sofa. "I'm Doctor Judith Kaufman, specialist in viral medicine. I usually work in Alabama at the country wide research and information center for infectious diseases."

"I'm Tracy Coressy, staff nurse, currently working here at Memorial," she replied wearily yet worriedly. "I wasn't aware that Daniel was in such a bad shape that…"

Judith put on a kind smile as she waved her hand in the air. "No, don't look so worried, Miss Coressy, the main reason I'm in on this case is that I was in the neighborhood so to speak. I was attending a conference here in Bay City," she explained.

"Oh," Tracy said sheepishly yet relieved. "Then what can you tell me about his condition?"

"We're rerunning the tests Doctor Phillips ordered on him and ordered a few new ones but we can't really say yet what he's suffering from," Judith let on.

"Surely you must have some clue?" Tracy said.

The young doctor nodded. "We are following up on a few leads but at the moment all we can do is to treat his symptoms. Now, his body is responding rather well so far, therefore I see no immediate reason for concern," she said carefully.

The nurse nodded absentmindedly and started to chew on her lower lip.

"Hey," Judith said kindly. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about Mr. Gordon?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about him," she said humbly.

"From what I hear from Doctor Phillips you've been talking to him almost the whole night," Judith replied.

Tracy nodded and shifted in the sofa so that she was fully facing the doctor who appeared to be in the same age as herself. "Have you ever met a person for the first time in your life yet it feels like you've known each other for a lifetime?" she asked seriously.

"Yes," Judith said kindly.

"It's crazy really. I feel connected to him but I don't know him," the staff nursed explained, feeling like a complete nut.

Judith gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"His caretaker was a friend of mine so I know the basics. Actually what I'm going to tell you sounds like a fairytale of some kind," Tracy said, almost apologizing. "Daniel had it all. He had the looks, still has, and he had the money, the car, and the girls. Always got everything on a silver platter and never had to do anything in order to get things. He turned into a brat, conscious of his good looks and charm. However, Daniel lacked excitement in his life and got into drugs. His parents disapproved of his actions and didn't come to bail him out when things started to turn nasty. Daniel was furious and had a fall out with his parents. Then I'm afraid I don't know any details but after six months they started talking to each other again, on the phone as Mr and Mrs Gordon was away in business, and decided to reunite."

Judith didn't know why but she felt a sense of dread creeping over her at the dramatic pause, the woman next to her made.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gordon never came back. Their bodies was never found but witnesses claim they saw the helicopter with the company logo crash while on a scouting round in the wilderness – they were prospectors," Tracy said darkly.

Doctor Kaufman gasped as she realized who Daniel Gordon really was. "Gordon Enterprises," she exclaimed. "It was all over the news – the Texas business manager and prospector assumed dead in helicopter crash," she said, her voice hollow.

Tracy nodded sadly. "Daniel never really got a proper chance to talk to his parents, to make up or to say goodbye. The newspapers and magazines in Texas stalked him, watched his every move for several months after the accident," she said.

"He wasn't ready for the kind of responsibility and didn't have the strategic mind to run the company his father had started but before he realized that the company was in bad shape. He sold what was left of it and together with the fortune he'd already inherited he was listed as one of the wealthiest men in Texas," Tracy explained.

"I bet he didn't have to look far for the girls," Judith remarked.

"He enjoyed himself, only did what he wanted, and didn't care for anyone else. Took up on his shady acquaintances and once again got into things he couldn't handle. He plunged into depression, partied whole nights, had a new girl every second day," Tracy said and then added. "The last part was what Jo-Anne told me a year ago after a night out. She told me how disgusted she was and that he deserved what fate had given him. Then in the next sentence she basically told me he was kind and giving, a person full of regret."

Judith nodded carefully. "Maybe he was?" she suggested.

Tracy sighed. "In a way Jo-Anne was a gold-digger that took a glass too many or gambled out of her league. I think that at first she only intended to take care of Daniel because she thought she would benefit from it," she replied as a way of explanation.

"Did she?" Judith wondered aloud.

"I don't know. According to the police she was found dead under a bridge in the outskirts of the city. Apparently she had a couple of dollars in her boot that matched the serial numbers missing from Daniels' account," Tracy returned darkly, her voice bitter.

"She took out money from his account?" Judith asked curiously, condemning. "Or did he give it to her?"

Tracy shook her head. "I don't know. I just remember the conflicted look on Daniel's face when the police came to tell him that she was dead and that she had been found with money that belonged to him," Tracy rubbed her tired eyes and then turned to fix Judith with an angry glare. "They even suggested he might have something to do with it."

Judith frowned. "Do you have the names of those officers?" she asked.

"Detective's Long and Cassidy," she returned in a clipped voice.

OOOOOO

"I'm not sure I like this," Starsky said looking somewhat put out as Hutch donned a bullet proof vest.

Several detectives with various designations had gathered in the squad room, some of them being prepped with radios others with listening devices while the rest of them checked their guns and other gear.

"I thought you would be pleased to sit this one out Starsk," Hutch teased lightly as he finished strapping his gun to his shoulder.

"Would love some action," his friend returned, not the least amused.

"Everyone set?" Captain Marks asked as he came into the room.

There was a chorus of yes greeting him.

"You all know what to do so let's not waste any more time. Let's bring them in and cut off some more tentacles of the Octopus," Marks said.

"Hey," Starsky said as Hutch moved to exit the room with the others. "Don't do anything stupid without me."

"Dave Starsky," Marks said with a grin. "I'm sorry I can't invite you."

"Understandable Captain. Just take care of my partner here. I would hate to be teamed with someone else," he said seriously.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this. It wasn't my intention to keep you waiting this long. I hope you're still with me._


	5. Come What May

**Chapter Five – Come What May**

OOOOOO

John Meredith glanced at the door as it swung open revealing a frustrated Judith Kaufman.

"How was Tracy?" John asked sympathetically.

"The poor woman is exhausted and I don't think she really understands what's happening," she let on.

"She ought to understand something, she's a nurse," Doctor Meredith returned as he got out of his chair to stretch his sore back.

"That's not what I meant," his younger colleague said. "She's sitting vigil at the bedside of a man she doesn't really know. She's afraid of the situation, uncertain."

John opened his mouth to reply when the door opened again and two suit-clad men in their middle forties entered.

They had the same height and seemed to have been shaped in the same form, both lean but not very muscular. One of them had light brown, almost sand colored, hair while the other had dark brown, their haircuts modern and stylish. Their eye color was brown, the man with the light brown hair having light brown eyes and the dark haired man having dark brown eyes.

For some reason Judith knew they were cops even before they flashed their badges right under her nose.

"Ma'am, sir," the slightly darker man said politely, yet cockily. "Detective Sergeant, second class, Cassidy. This is my partner Detective Sergeant, second class, Long."

"I'm Doctor Kaufman and this is Doctor…"

"We know, ma'am," Long interrupted. "What we like to know is how the case is progressing."

"The case?" Judith questioned, feeling her temper rising. "Are we talking about Mr. Daniel Gordon's case?"

"Wasn't aware you were working on something parallel," Long returned casually.

"What is it you'd like to know gentlemen?" Doctor Meredith asked calmly as he walked up to stand next to his colleague.

"Just run us through what you've got so far," Cassidy suggested. "Is there a chance of the man dying?"

"Why?" Judith challenged. For some reason these men set her off. "Afraid you won't be able to question him?"

The tension heightened in the room and there was an awkward silence until Cassidy suddenly chuckled. "I don't know what your problem is, Doctor Kaufman, but please consider the fact that Daniel Gordon's money was found on the deceased, Jo-Anne Fields," he said sternly.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about her and also the connections Daniel Gordon once had," Long explained in a serious voice.

"Perhaps we should start again?" Meredith suggested kindly.

"Maybe we should, Doc," Cassidy said.

"We haven't got much so far," Doctor Meredith admitted as he gestured for the two detectives to follow him to the microscope and the pictures at the table next to it.

"We've learned that Mr. Gordon has recently been abroad – to Africa and the savannah - to be more exact," Judith explained. The markers in his bloodwork show nothing that binds to a particular disease."

"However, there are a few viral infections that should be reconsidered for Mr. Gordon's condition," Doctor Meredith let on. "One of them being the unpleasant Dengue Fever."

"And if it is," Cassidy began carefully. "How great is the risk for contamination?"

"None, whatsoever," Judith returned quickly. "Dengue Fever is caused by an Arthropod-borne Flavivirus. Now, what is a bit tricky here is that there are four distinct serotypes…"

"Okay," Cassidy interrupted as he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I have no doubts that you know your field Doctor Kaufman but please speak English so that the rest of us can understand."

"If it is, and I stress the word if in this case, the Dengue Fever, it has been caused by an infection spread by a mosquito," Judith explained further. "And before you ask – No, it can't be contracted here in this country."

A faint upward curl spread on Cassidy's lips at the revelation.

"Mr. Gordon shows several symptoms that are consistant with the Dengue Fever. He's got the high fever, he's got pains in joints, legs and lower back, nausea and headaches…" John listed.

"Although, since Mr. Gordon is suffering from TBI…Traumatic Brain Injury, the latter of the symptoms listed by my colleague might reside from that and not from the virus he's contracted," Judith explained.

"Anyway, as of right now we're isolating the strain of the virus in order to deduce the exact type and when we're done with that we know more," Doctor Meredith said. "As for Mr. Gordon, we have him under close observation at the moment and in isolation. His fever is spiking as we speak and his condition is deteriorating. There is no vaccine against the Dengue Fever so we can only treat the various symptoms as they appear and let his body fight off the infection for itself."

"But you weren't sure it was the Dengue Fever?" Long asked suspiciously. "Meaning you can't really say he's not got anything contagious at this stage."

"As I said, we have reason to believe it is the Dengue Fever and should I make an educated guess…" Judith threw her hands in the air as she trailed off. "Once again, we have him under observation and in isolation. We're working as fast as we can. Now, what we'd like to know is if the coroner has finished with the tests taken on Mr. Gordon's caretaker, Jo-Anne Fields."

OOOOOO

Dobey popped his head out in the duty room and glanced around for remaining member of the blond and brunette duo. He spotted the curly haired detective at the end of the table listening in to the stake out operation Hutch was currently taking part in.

"Starsky!" Dobey hollered in a short voice.

Dave looked up and made his way over to the captain's office. "Look, you've got to get me over there," he said.

"Absolutely not," Harold Dobey returned in a stern voice.

"It's a bit wild over there…" Starsky began but was cut short.

"Now you look. That's exactly why you aren't there! Have you forgotten what I told you before or where you not listening?" Dobey asked raising his voice. "You're not yet cleared for active duty!"

There was an awkward silence in the office. Starsky was fuming and Dobey was silently counting to ten.

It was Dobey who finally broke the tension in the room and the silence. "I've just had a call from the coroner and he says he's got something he wants to show us. I've brought in Detectives Long and Cassidy for the Jo-Anne case…"

"I thought there hadn't been any new developments," Starsky cut in with an incredulous look on his face.

"Hutch is wrapped into the Octopus case and you're still, officially, on medical leave so please explain to me why I shouldn't have left Long and Cassidy with the case?" Dobey countered.

"And the Jo-Anne case is tied into the Octopus case, there's no doubt about it," Starsky reasoned, still not liking the fact that he'd been sidestepped.

"Coroner's office, Starsky," Dobey ordered as he opened the door for the detective to get out.

A playful smile appeared on the curly haired detective sergeant's lips as he saw the captain was made to follow him out in the corridor, the heated discussion mostly forgotten.

"Don't you go and play with the candy machine, Captain," Starsky cautioned, unable to help himself.

"Why don't you take a hike," Dobey mumbled.

Starsky let out a low whistle. "Touchy, are we?" he teased as he lazily waved a hand in the air. "All right I'm going."

OOOOOO

Ten minutes later Detective David Starsky was standing outside the coroner's office at the basement of Memorial Hospital. He hesitated, then involuntarily shuddered as he reached for the doorknob.

Doctor Charles Murphy looked up as the door swung open and did a double take as he realized who'd just entered. The coroner smiled behind the mask covering his face as he strapped off his gloves and disposed of the mask.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised," he said jovially as he made his way over to the curly haired detective. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Dave, although it might sound absurd in this room."

Starsky snorted then shook his head and broke into a grin. "Just the thought of you standing over my dead body was enough to get me going," he returned sarcastically.

"Somehow I don't think this is a social visit?" Doctor Murphy said with a raised eyebrow.

"Nope," Starsky confessed. "I want to know what you've got on Jo-Anne Fields. I understand you phoned Captain Dobey earlier?"

Murphy nodded. "Yes, I did. If you'd follow me," he began as he set a brisk pace down to the office at the far end of the room.

Starsky pursed his lips; he didn't particularly like being the doctor's den.

"As I told your former partner back at the crime scene, there are signs of struggle," he explained as he sat down behind his desk and rummaged through a desk drawer.

Unimpressed by the chaotic order as the doctor liked to call it, the detective stopped at the threshold and leaned against the doorframe casually. At the tip of his tongue lay a sharp remark about the fact that he and Hutch were still partners.

Smiling, the balding and squat little doctor finally retrieved a set of pictures. "These should be filed as evidence. Now, of what I can gather, the cause of death was due to blunt force trauma to the back of the skull as I'm sure you've been told?" he stated, uncertain of how much the detective really knew.

The first class detective nodded impatiently. "Just get to the point, doc," he said.

"Evidence from here correlates with the smaller male footprint found on the scene. I'd say the perpetrator was a fairly small man, someone she recognized by the looks of things," Murphy explained.

Starsky nodded. "The more pieces of the puzzle the better picture," he said seriously. "I have a pretty clear picture of who it might have been."

"Good, then you might want to hear that all her tests came back negative. Miss Fields wasn't infected by whatever bug Mr. Gordon caught," the coroner said with an enigmatic smile.

Starsky raised a questionable eyebrow. "Come again?" he asked in confusion.

The coroner turned to look the standing detective in the eye with a serious expression. He had to give credit to David Starsky because if he hadn't known he would never have guessed what the man had been through. He looked like his normal self, maybe a bit paler but that was it.

"I thought you'd heard since you're working the case that a man was brought in a few days ago. The same man that raised the alarm that the woman was actually missing," Murphy returned.

"No, I didn't know," Starsky confessed with a slight irritation in his voice. "Obviously Dobey didn't think it was important enough."

The coroner smiled apologetically. "Perhaps it was a precaution," he suggested. "I've phoned the viral team upstairs to let Doctor Kaufman know that we are not dealing with an epidemic."

"Doctor Kaufman," Starsky echoed. "Is Judith here? This is getting better and better."

"Look, Dave, you've been through enough as it is. The last thing Captain Dobey wanted was for you, or Hutch for that matter, to go near the man at the hospital and risk being contaminated by a contagion," the coroner reasoned.

The brunette sighed.

"Dave, even a fully fit individual would have a hard time fighting off an unknown strain of virus," Doctor Murphy added softly.

The detective's head snapped up as he straightened and let go of the doorframe. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he demanded sharply.

"You have been very sick, Dave," Murphy said carefully, weighing his words. "People die from much less than you've been through.

"Have been," Starsky admitted stubbornly. "I'm fine now."

The coroner's brown eyes skittered away from the blue eyes that had locked with his own. "Are you?" he asked sadly. "Do you know for sure that you'll be given back your badge? Do you know for sure you can do the job you used to do?"

If looks could have killed then Murphy wouldn't have lasted ten seconds. Starsky's hands balled into fists along his sides and he took a step forward. When he spoke it was in a low and threatening voice.

"Look, Doctor Murphy. I've worked long and hard hours to get back. It hasn't exactly been a walk in the park, but if I give up I let Gunther win over me. Now, I'm determined not to let him do that. I'm well aware of my limitations; I can feel them every day but I can also feel them being stretched," he finished angrily.

The coroner raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Please, take no offence, Dave. That's not what I meant. If anyone can pass the exams it's you. I just wanted you to be prepared for all the possible outcomes," he explained kindly. "Because quite frankly you should have died that day seven months ago."

OOOOOO

To be continued.


	6. Caught

**Chapter Six – Caught**

Detective Sergeant David Starsky wearily walked through the doors to the homicide department's duty room and headed directly for the coffee pot.

"Dave, good you're back," Lilah Rose said with a soft smile as she walked up to him with a bundle of papers in hand.

"Couldn't wait to see that beautiful smile of yours," he returned charmingly as he broke into a sly grin.

The good looking petite brunette chuckled at him and smacked the folders on his chest. "I think you'll find the information in there quite interesting," she said playfully as she turned to leave.

Starsky held the grin as he watched her bum. He appreciated Lilah, not just for her figure and her cheeriness but for the way she approached him. She treated him the same way as she'd always done.

After the accident a lot of colleagues seemed to think he was made of glass. They carried things from the archive and storage rooms for him probably thinking he couldn't lift anything. Hutch watched him like a hawk and Dobey had that concerned look on his face every now and then. Uniformed officers held up doors for him, two of the rookies just stared at him as if he was a living legend as he walked past them in the hallway.

Stifling a yawn he heavily sank down in his chair at the wooden desk and opened the folder the police assistant had handed over. The information had him going from weary to alert in seconds. He grabbed for the cup of coffee he'd absentmindedly poured and swallowed a large clunk of it as he straightened.

Everything there was to know about the Octopus Corporation lay before him. Also, attached to it was a dossier of Mr. Irish. Although an interesting read indeed all he could think about at the moment was Hutch who was out there tied into a dangerous operation. Starsky prayed his partner would be all right and fought the urge to grab the set of car keys and take the Torino on location. Starsky was no fool, he knew he couldn't go there, he would jeopardize the bust and maybe even someone else's life if he did so but he still didn't like having his partner out there, his life protected by others.

OOOOOO

Nurse Coressy nodded thankfully at her colleague, as he gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze and then walked away. She exhaled deeply and ran a hand through her hair, pushing some of the golden strands out of her face.

Doctor Phillips had kindly suggested that she go home for a while, rest and start dealing with all the impressions she'd gotten over the last forty-eight hours. He informed her that she needn't worry about the shift she should have started in the next hour because he'd called in a replacement. She had the decency not to look surprised, only thankful for his kindness and consideration, given the fact that she'd completely forgotten she was due for work at all.

The nurse was wandering the corridors unable to leave. Instead she found herself at the door to the lab that Doctor Kaufman and her older colleague was currently occupying. With a shaky hand she reached for the doorknob as she gave the door a soft knock with the other.

"I'm sorry for intruding…" she began.

Judith waved her over with a small smile. "No, don't you worry about that. We could do with a little break," she returned, encouraging for the nurse to come through.

A tall and lean man in his early fifties, quite good looking and fit for his age walked up to her and politely extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Doctor John Meredith," he said. "You must be Nurse Tracy Coressy."

She gladly shook his hand and flashed a smile. "Indeed, Doctor Meredith," she concurred.

"You know. It suddenly occurred to me that you never finished explaining how Daniel got to be the way he is today. What brought on this handicap that he has?" Judith spoke up from behind her colleague.

"No, I guess I didn't," Tracy said as she sat down on a wooden chair next to the bench where Judith stood, waiting for an analysis to be finished.

"Like I said, the man had it all but wanted more. He got into a car with a woman he was dating. They were high and somewhere down the highway a fight broke out between them. The car skidded off the road, the velocity so high that he lost control of it. The car turned into a wreck tumbling down a steep incline, the woman was killed instantly and Daniel got severe injuries, so bad that the doctors held little hope for his survival. He lay in a coma for several weeks, hooked up to a respirator. The brain scan showed considerate swelling and for a while they discussed drilling a hole to release the pressure. Then slowly the swelling gradually decreased. However, several areas of the brain showed abnormalities. Motoric function was uncoordinated, vision was hazy, his balance was off and he ached in every joint. His speech was slurred and he plunged into a severe depression," Tracy explained.

"Poor guy," Judith whispered.

Tracy nodded. "Some things have improved, as for example his speech and vision, but he's still experiencing aches, some trouble with his balance and so on. His doctors can't explain it. The brain is a tricky thing," she said soberly.

"It's an interesting field of medical exploration," Doctor Meredith said.

"The brain?" Tracy asked curiously and then nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder if they'll ever fully understand how it works."

OOOOOO

Heavy eyes and several hours later Starsky jumped as the door opened and several officers walked through, including Hutch.

The blonde, dusty and weary, silently walked up to his curly haired partner and gave his shoulder a comfortable squeeze. "Hey, buddy. Missed me?" he said softly, his voice hinting a teasing undertone.

"What time is it?" Starsky mumbled as he rubbed tired eyes. "I thought you would be back ages ago."

"Don't sound so put out Starsk, it took a while to haul them into the net," Hutch replied.

"Well excuse me for worrying about my partner," the brunette said sarcastically. "I heard on the radio someone had been shot and…"

Hutch cut him off. "Calm down Starsk, it was officer Aimes who took a slug in the leg and then lieutenant Hooks got caught in the crossfire and took one to the shoulder," he explained kindly.

"Yeah?" Starsky said with a raised eyebrow as he nodded at Hutch's sleeve. "Mind if I ask what's been sizzling past your sleeve, or rather through it?"

The blonde part of the detective duo sheepishly lifted his right arm, twisted it around a little, to look at the bullet hole that had cut through the fabric of his shirt. "Oh, that," he said casually. "We met heavy resistance there for a while and I got into a tricky situation."

"Uhu," Starsky said carefully. "I don't think I want to know the details."

"Hey, I'm here and I'm all right, Starsk. It was a good bust, we got them all," Hutch let on with a grin. "Even our friend Mr. Irish was there."

OOOOOO

Tracy was tired, so very tired. It wasn't from exhaustion, she was sure of it and it suddenly frightened her. She straightened where she sat, in the visitor chair, next to Daniel and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. He had improved some but he still wasn't out of danger. Perspiration lay as a thin sheen on his forehead and upper lip and he looked flushed. His hair was damp and slicked down the side of his temples. The kind doctors had told her that they didn't believe he was a carrier of whatever it really was he was currently fighting and it was not deemed necessary for him to be in isolation any longer.

The nurse looked at the sleeping man and smiled wearily, she felt drawn to him. She shifted in the chair and eased closer to him to take his hand into her own but she never made it that far before the room swam around her and she ungracefully fell out of the chair and onto the floor.

Daniel awakened by the thud next to him and worriedly cast a glance downwards. He couldn't see more than a hand and a foot from his angle but he needn't see more. Painfully he stretched his arm, his fingers grasping at the call button next to him. He gritted his teeth in determination and clumsily managed to push the button. Exhausted he slumped back in the bed, closing is eyes.

Doctor Judith Kaufman, having been outside the corridor, arrived first. She quickly closed the distance to Nurse Coressy and assessed her visually, confusion evident on her face. Tracy had undergone some of the tests Daniel had had just to rule out the possibility of him passing on the virus to her. The nurse had showed no signs of infection, bacteria or any other contagion of any sort.

"John," Judith said as she saw her colleague enter the room. "Raise the alarm and have another look at the tests taken on her at their arrival. I'll put her in a bed next to Mr. Gordon and quarantine the room once again. Then I'm going to take a battery of tests."

"I'm on it," Doctor Meredith replied shortly as he made to leave. "I'll call Doctor Phillips as well and go through the initial tests again and see if something's happened."

"What's going on?" Detective Cassidy demanded as he suddenly stood on the doorstep to Mr. Gordon's room, his colleague just behind him.

"Please leave the area immediately," Judith ordered in a no-nonsense voice.

Meredith gently guided Cassidy out in the corridor. "We have reason to believe that Nurse Coressy have been infected by the same strain of virus as Mr. Gordon," he explained. "We're putting them in quarantine."

"I thought you said he was not a carrier," Cassidy's partner, Detective Long stated sceptically as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's correct," Doctor Meredith answered seriously.

"I thought you were the top of your field. I thought you had it under control!" Cassidy said, his voice rising with every word spoken.

"Would you please calm down Detective Cassidy, being agitated won't solve the problem," Meredith cautioned.

"Please forgive my partner, Doctor," Long apologized curtly as he cast a quick glance at his colleague. "Keep us apprised of the situation. Should it escalate we might need to take action."

The doctor nodded. "I don't believe that would be necessary Detective Long. The outbreak will likely be contained at the hospital so there would be no need to protect the public or bring anyone here," he reasoned.

"Very well. We came here to tell Mr. Gordon that he's no longer under suspicion for the murder of his caretaker. Would you please see to it that when he's ready, he'll receive the good news?" Long asked.

"Yes, now please leave the premises. One of us will call you when there's any news," Doctor Meredith assured them.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the feedback on the latest chapter ;)_


	7. Clues

**Chapter Seven - Clues**

Hutch leaned forward in his chair opposite Starsky. "Let me get this straight," he said carefully, his analytical mind highly wired. "You say Mr. Irish has taken out money from several bank accounts, from customers whose money he see to and used them to found the Octopus Corporation?"

Starsky nodded. "The report from the fraud department suggests that's the case…"

"No, no," Hutch mumbled tiredly before his partner could even finish and shook his head. "It's only circumstantial Starsk."

"Maybe if you look at the reports from the various investigations one by one but if you bother to connect the little dots on the way you might see the whole picture," Starsky countered cunningly.

"Mr. Irish was the accountant responsible for placing Mr. Han's money in the bank. He set him up as a customer," Hutch said as he quickly skimmed through the report laid in front of him.

Starsky nodded. "Says here that Mr. Han, aka the Chairman of the Octopus Corporation, wanted no one else to look into his business," he said.

"Even more interesting is that the Octopus Corporation owns the famous club at Third and Main called The Rocket," Hutch remarked.

"The Rocket?" Starsky echoed curiously. "What is it they say? - The place to be if you have the money to spend."

"A high society club during the day and an illegal gambling place at night," Hutch added. "It's common knowledge, it's just that they seem to be prepared every time a warrant is made."

"Jo-Anne Fields was seen at the Rocket wasn't she?" Starsky asked curiously, looking at his partner for confirmation.

Hucth nodded. "Cabral said he'd seen her there while he was undercover. She came in with a large amount of money that she had won a few days earlier at another place and spent the lot." he said.

"So, a gambler then?" Starsky mused. "That's what Cassidy said before you got here. Said she was a girl with a messy background and a lot of debts."

"Well, would you look at this," Hutch exclaimed.

"What?" Starsky demanded.

"Among Mr. Irish's clients is Mr. Gordon. Isn't that a surprise?" the blonde detective asked sarcastically.

"What are you getting at?" the other half of the detective duo asked.

"Look at the notes from the bank director," Hutch returned cryptically as he handed over the folder to his partner.

"Mr. Irish has added a fee to be drawn from the account every third month…" he trailed off and let out a low whistle…"look at the amount."

"Only the fee, which Mr. Irish has taken out, not only from Mr. Gordon's account but of his other clients, has not turned up at the bank," Hutch added.

"There is one more thing," Starsky pointed out smugly. "No fee has been drawn from Mr. Han's account. Strangely he has gained money from business projects and several dummy corporations. According to the final words of the fraud department's report…"

"He could claim he's really gotten the money legally and not by switching accounts by Mr. Irish," Hutch cautioned. "I'm afraid it might not hold up in court."

"Maybe not but the higher you climb the higher the reason you'll grow careless and expose something that can lead to your downfall," Starsky said with an enigmatic smile.

"Stop talking in riddles, Starsk, it's too late at night for that," Hutch complained.

"Let me enlighten you Blondie. While you've been away and enjoyed yourself I've been reading up on Mr. Irish. Turns out there are no papers recording his birth or where he's from. Looks like he was born at the age of thirty one here in Bay City. His diploma of education says he's studied at Harvard but the school claims to have no knowledge of a Mr. Irish ever attending. And there's more; while getting employment at the bank he quickly took control over the bank accounts of several of the key persons in the Octopus Corporation. Those that are now behind lock and key in a lovely facility called Bay City State Prison. Now, guess who's been shadowing Mr. Irish from day one?"

Hutch frowned and shrugged.

"Pepe, the dealer you've just picked up at the bust," Starsky let on as he stabbed a finger at Hutch. "The same man who's been seen talking to Jo-Anne Fields at The Rocket and probably the man responsible for her death."

"Is there a point in this?" Hutch asked.

"I'm getting to that. You see, Mr. Irish knew, since he was Mr. Gordon's bank accountant, that he had a lot of money at home in his safe and he also knew that Jo-Anne Fields worked for him. This is where he got careless. He ordered Pepe to set her up and collect the money. As of a few hours ago the exact amount of money that Jo-Anne took from Mr. Gordon's safe appeared on a closed account at the bank. It then got transferred to another account that belongs to Prio Holdings – a dummy corporation…"

"For the Octopus Corporation," Hutch finished with a grin. "Starsk you're on to something here."

He tilted his head cockily and took a sip of his coffee. "I've been calling in favors from a lot of places. Especially the economics department."

"Didn't know you had it in you, partner," Hutch said. "Considering your love for paperwork."

"As the doctor's said, I'm a miracle – or was it oracle?" Starsky drawled cockily as he placed his feet on the desk and his hands behind his neck.

"Starsky!" Dobey shouted angrily as he walked out of his office and into the duty room causing the curly haired detective to cringe. "Don't you have some manners?"

"What's brought on this foul mood, captain?" Hutch asked innocently, secretly enjoying his superior admonishing his partner. "No candy bar?"

"Captain Marks has been forced to release Mr. Irish," he returned.

"What?" Hutch asked incredulously.

"You heard me," Dobey replied angrily. "I told you to build a case before bringing him in."

"Build a case?" Starsky echoed unbelievingly. "The guy is guilty, Captain. He organized the whole thing!"

"He got Jo-Anne killed. That way he got all the money and no one to tell the story," Hutch reasoned testily.

"Do you know how long we've been trying to get to him?" Dobey countered. "Lieutenant Cabral even went undercover and infiltrated the business a while back and Irish still managed to get off the hook."

"If we can't bring him in for the connections to the Octopus business, at least not at first, let's keep him in custody for the Jo-Anne Fields murder and let him sweat for a while," Starsky suggested. "We don't have to enlighten him about the fact that we can't tie him to it."

"He buys himself protection," Hutch broke in. "However, I have a feeling that someone will spill. Pepe knows too much about the finances for Irish to feel comfortable."

"Look, I've just had an argument with the chief about how to run this department and how to cooperate with the other departments and the last thing I need right now is to have this slimy money laundering bank accountant slip through my fingers but that's what most likely to happen," Dobey cautioned seriously.

Starsky and Hutch looked at each other.

The captain sighed tiredly, it had been a long couple of days. "Now you listen to me. You have been gone a long time and a lot of things have happened out there. Irish is a smart man, that's how he's survived and managed to expand the Octopus' operations with the Octopus himself out of the picture," he explained heatedly.

"I can't take this anymore!" Starsky said angrily, slamming the folder he'd been holding in his hand in the desk. "Hutch could've been killed during that raid today!"

"You too if you'd been there," his blonde partner cautioned, suddenly glad he hadn't had to worry about Starsky's whereabouts back then.

"Now, four hours later, you're telling me – telling us, that Mr. Irish has left, been bailed out by his goons?" Starsky questioned fiercely.

Dobey looked away. He clearly wasn't too pleased about it but there had been nothing he could have done.

"Please tell me, you didn't release the rest as well," Hutch stated sourly.

The captain shook his head. "No, Pepe and the bunch of crackpots you busted are not getting out," he returned.

"Well, let's work on them," Hutch persisted. "Let's convince them to tell some dirt that'll bring Irish down. I'm sure Pepe and I can come to some sort of agreement."

Dobey made a face. "Go ahead."

OOOOOO

Doctor Judith Kaufman blinked tiredly, her vision greying as she looked though the magnification of the precision instrument in front of her. Giving up on it she stretched trying to work out the kinks in her back.

"It's coming from the African Transcontinental Strain," Doctor Meredith deduced as he walked into the lab, having been down in the hospital library. "At least that was what Doctor Stevens named it."

"Doctor Stevens?" Judith wondered aloud.

"You don't remember Jonathan do you?" Meredith sighed as he sat down next to where she stood. "He would have been around seventy years old now if he'd survived. He went to the African continent ten years ago to start an organization that would help oversee the local inhabitant's needs in a little village…I don't remember the name of it."

"He called back home two years later and was worried about an outbreak of a long lasting fever. He described various other symptoms to me as well. We put together a group of people in Alabama to try and help him decide what was going on; unfortunately we came up with nothing. The virus ran its course and took the weakest – young and old – to the grave. The people infected that survived seemed no unhealthier than anyone else. It was called 'the evil fever' by the villagers and strangely it didn't turn up anywhere else," Meredith explained.

Judith frowned. "You think that somehow Mr. Gordon has contracted 'the evil fever'?" she asked.

John shook his head. "No, not really, but the similarities all are there. However, there is a strong similarity with the Dengue fever as well. What has me believing it's not Dengue is that that kind of virus doesn't jump from human to human."

"'The evil fever' did?" Judith asked, intrigued by this revelation. "Are you sure it was not something they picked up from the unsanitary water or due to poor hygiene?"

"If it came from the water source or lack of hygiene as you suggest, please explain to me why it was contracted again?" Doctor Meredith asked.

Judith threw her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I can't," she said sadly.

John sighed, looking very tired all of a sudden. "What's the latest about Tracy?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"We're still waiting for the lab to process," his younger colleague replied.

OOOOOO

Detective Sergeant David Starsky ran for all he was worth, at least that's how he felt as he was coming down the lane at speed, his Adidas running shoes hampering on the pavement. It was late and despite the city pulse the rather chilly night held most people indoors this time of early night.

Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson had trouble keeping up with his curly haired partner even though he was running daily but he pushed himself further to keep even steps. To say he was relieved when Starsky finally slowed down to a jogging pace and then stopped altogether to rest his hands on his knees and take a breath was an understatement. Mimicking his partner's move he too bent forward, panting heavily, and placed his hands on his thighs.

"Hey, buddy," Hutch began between breaths as he turned to look at his friend who had his eyes closed.

The somewhat shorter and more muscular built man said nothing as he tried to slow his breathing.

"Hey, Starsk? Are you all right?" Hutch tried in concern.

The blue eyes shot open at the statement and Hutch was rewarded by an undignified glare. "I told you before…" he began in annoyance as he stabbed a finger at his blond partner's chest.

"I know, I know. 'Stop asking me if I'm fine'," Hutch said, the last part a direct quote from Starsky himself. "It's just that…I don't know…"

"Don't you sugarcoat it, out with it," Starsky urged in a straight forward tone of voice as he straightened, carefully worked out the kinks in his neck and then took a step forward.

Hutch fell into steps with him. "Tomorrow is a big day, Starsk," he said carefully, waiting for his friend's reaction as he wiped the perspiration off his forehead. "You shouldn't empty all of your reserves like this. You'll need everything you got at those physical tests."

"I just need to feel alive, Hutch," Starsky returned softly, almost pleading with him to understand.

The blond detective smiled slightly, his expression unreadable even to Starsky for a moment. "Well, you're not going there alone," he said resolutely.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I really do but I don't need a baby sitter," Dave returned.

"Hey, it's not you I'm going to protect. It's that Doctor Matthews fella if he says something you don't like," Hutch returned with twinkle in his eye as he playfully slapped Starsky on his back.

Dave Starsky couldn't help but to chuckle and then shake his head. "Whatever you say, partner," he said.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/This last 'scene' in this chapter was actually the start of this story. Thank you for your reviews, I love to hear from you ;)_


	8. A Sleepless Night

**Chapter Eight – A Sleepless Night**

Despite everything Hutch felt pleased with himself. Everything was finally turning in their favor. He was, to be honest, still a bit concerned for Starsky and the upcoming medical tests but he knew he couldn't dwell on it. It was a rather unpleasant thought should his partner be cashiered out of the service. Where would that leave him? He didn't have that answer, he didn't want to go there, didn't want to deal with it. Hutch refused to believe anything else other than that Starsky would pass, there was no other alternative, Gunther would not win in the end.

However, he'd seen when his partner hadn't thought he was looking. He'd seen the grimaces and the lingering pain that still bothered Starsky at times. His curly haired friend would not be able to fool the medical department, the test would state in black and white whether or not he was finished as a cop or ready to resume his duties. The road had come to an end.

Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson was so wrapped up in his mind that he let himself being lulled into safety – that was a fatal mistake. Also having parked his car a bit further down the street to Starsky's house made it even worse. The blow that struck the back of his head as he reached for the set of car keys in his pocket came as a surprise and he crumpled to the ground.

In a daze he saw his attacker bring out a knife, the sharp edge of the blade reflecting in the pale moonlight. The blond detective rolled to the side and grabbed the assassin's arm to pull him down but he wasn't quick enough. Hutch gasped as the knife sliced through the sleeve of his jacket and cut into the flesh of his upper arm. He gritted his teeth and momentarily let go of the attacker. As the man aimed for his chest he kicked out and managed to land a solid blow to the assassin's torso. Hutch heard him gasp and the sickening sound of ribs being broken.

Enraged, the man came at him again but this time Hutch was prepared. The detective lunged for his attacker and grasped the knife, pulled it out of his hand, he received another blow to his head but before darkness claimed him he managed a direct upper cut to his attacker's skull, hoping it would be enough.

OOOOOO

Starsky slept worriedly, dreams haunting him as he tossed back and forth in his bed. Drowsily, he reached out for the watch on his night stand and noticed with dismay that it had only been two hours since Hutch went home. For some reason, he didn't know why, he just felt the need to talk to his partner again. He reached up with his hand to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead and upper lip before picking up the phone. Starsky let it ring for a while, knowing Hutch needed some time to wake up but when he'd tried three times and no one answered he got worried.

The former New Yorker heaved himself out of bed and hastily grabbed a couple of blue jeans and a wrinkled shirt. He jumped into his Adidas sneakers, grabbed his car keys and his gun then headed outside.

Cautiously he glanced around, taking in his immediate surroundings, a habit from being in the police force for so long, and then got into his beloved car. The engine fired immediately and within a second he was rolling down the street. He got only half a block before he spotted the familiar ugly silhouette of his partner's car.

"Hutch," Starsky said worriedly, the hairs at the back of his neck rising as he thought about what could have happened.

The Torino glided up to the battled car and in the headlights and the faint glow of the broken streetlight he saw his blonde partner lying next to it.

"Hutch!" Starsky yelled. "Hutch!"

The, yet to be approved by the medical department, detective was at his partner's side in an instant. He kneeled next to him and carefully turned his head toward him. Disgusted he saw blood trickling down Hutch's face and noticed the shredded sleeve and the blood on his arm.

"Come on dummy, wake up," Starsky demanded as he gently tapped the blonde's face.

"Off," Hutch murmured in annoyance.

"That's right," Starsky encouraged. "Open your eyes for me."

"Starsk?" The fallen detective mumbled in confusion as he blinked heavy eyelids open. "What? Did I get him?"

Starsky nodded to his partner's side. "Would that be the guy that lies comfortably beside your front wheel?" He questioned.

"Smart ass," Hutch returned woozily.

"Can't really tell but it looks like he got you and you got him," Starsky offered as he rose to check on the man.

Hutch shook his head, trying to clear his vision. "Came at me from nowhere," he explained.

Starsky nodded as he felt his partner's attacker's pulse under his fingertips. "The scum is still alive. I better report it," he said and got up.

"Control this is Zebra Three, come in control," Starsky said into the radio communicator of his car.

 _"This is control receiving Zebra Three. Is that you Starsky?"_ The female voice asked.

"Yeah, look no questions asked, just send an ambulance and a patrol car to the corner of 6th and Plaza. Hutch's down," he said tiredly.

 _"Already on it, Zebra Three, take care now Starsky,"_ the woman said.

The detective nodded unconsciously at the statement and then headed back to his fallen partner. "We've got to get you to the hospital," he said worriedly.

"No," Hutch replied with determination, his voice stronger than it had been only minutes earlier. "You have a big day ahead of you. I'll not let you miss your appointment."

"Screw the appointment," Starsky replied angrily.

"Listen to me now Starsk. I'm fine, a little worse for wear maybe, but there's nothing to be concerned about. I'll be spending a few lovely hours at the Memorial and wait until you get your ass over there and take me home," Hutch reasoned.

Starsky looked uncertain as he gently guided Hutch into a more propped up position, against his car.

"Look, you give them all you got Starsk and you get out of there - reinstated. I know you can do it, partner," he said in an effort to boost the confidence of his curly haired friend. "Together we're going to bring down what remains of the Octopus Corporation."

There was a spark of determination in the blue eyes of the brunette and a grin appeared on his face before he got serious again. With a stab of his finger at Hutch's chest he simply said; "I'll hold you to that."

OOOOOO

When Daniel awakened he had a feeling that something was very wrong but he couldn't put a finger to it. No one sat at his bedside, no one talked softly to sooth his worries. Carefully, mindful of his stiff and aching muscles he turned his head around and froze as he spotted the blonde and friendly woman who'd been spending all her time with him, now in the hospital bed next to his own.

"Tracy?" he whispered weakly but the woman didn't as much as twitch.

"Tracy, please," he managed, his voice hoarse but stronger.

Daniel gingerly fought to rise up on his elbow but it was a futile attempt only leading him to feel drained.

"Mr. Gordon," Judith said as she walked up to him, having seen his struggle from outside the isolation window. "Please, keep still and I'll tell you what's been going on," she said kindly.

Daniel nodded and let himself be lowered back on the bed by the small hands of the doctor. He noticed that despite their isolation she wasn't wearing gloves or a mask over her mouth.

"Now, please…"

"Daniel," he said with a weak smile.

Judith beamed at him. "Daniel," she echoed and gave his shoulder an assuring squeeze. "I'm glad to see that you are better and I would ask how you're feeling but I have reason to believe that you're most eager to hear about your friend's condition."

He nodded, grateful that she understood. "She's been at my side, talking to me, seen me for who I am and not for something else," he said, his voice thick. "If I have given her something…"

"No, no don't worry, Daniel. You haven't infected Tracy," Judith assured him gently. She's gotten a bad version of the common flu – it is an unlucky coincidence. However, I'm going to have her moved now and take some more tests on you to see that it hasn't affected your condition negatively."

Daniel shook his head slowly. "Please let her stay," he said.

Judith was about to protest but seeing the look in his eyes she softened.

"If it is as you fear, Doctor Kaufman, then she would have infected me or worsened my condition earlier. I believe it's a certain incubation period for those things?" he stated.

"Have you been studying medicine?" Judith asked in a friendly manner.

"No," he returned sadly. "But my grandmother was a nurse back in Texas. That's one of the few things I remember from my childhood. It comes to me in glimpses at times and sometimes I forget what I did yesterday. You see, Doctor Kaufman, my mind is not what it used to be and it never will. It has taken me a long time to accept…but in a way I've been lucky, it could have been much worse."

Judith smiled; she was at loss for words and didn't really know what to say.

"I've done many things in life that I regret," he continued sadly. "I can't make that right, I can't take them back but maybe it's time to stop feeling sorry for myself and take responsibility."

"I have no doubt that you'll succeed, Daniel. Now, we have deduced what it is that you're suffering from and it's a mutilated version of the Dengue Fever. Do you know what it is?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, down in Africa a lot of mosquitoes seemed to like my blood. I just never considered they would carry the Dengue Fever," he admitted.

"Then you might know that there's no vaccine against that type of virus. We can only treat the symptoms it causes you and so far I'm happy to tell you that it looks like your body is responding well to the treatment and that if you keep this up you'll be fever free soon," Judith said with a smile.

"That's the best news I've had in a long time, Doctor Kaufman," he replied happily yet wearily.

"Well, I better leave you to get some rest and don't you worry about Tracy, she'll be all right," the young doctor assured him as she made to leave.

OOOOOO

Doctor Franklin looked up as the door opened to reveal a very familiar curly haired detective. The middle aged doctor smiled. "Mr. Starsky, we really should stop meeting each other like this," he said with a slight tease.

Hutch chuckled as he straightened on the hospital bed. Having had his arm attended, cleaned and stitched by the doctor in question and his head looked over.

It was the same doctor that had taken care of Starsky when he'd been poisoned a few years earlier. Since then they'd occasionally run into each other when he or Hutch had gotten into various scrapes.

Starsky laughed softly, cockily as he reached into his pocket to retrieve a very familiar brown leather object. With a used hand he took it into his left hand and unfolded it, flashing his badge. "It's Detective Sergeant Starsky to you, doc," he returned triumphantly.

Hutch laughed with relief, feeling his eyes moisture at the edges. "You did it Starsk," he exclaimed.

They had had a long and serious conversation the night before about Starsky undergoing the final exams and his fears of not passing, not being allowed back on the streets again.

"Was there any doubt?" The curly haired detective asked with a cocky grin.

However, Hutch could easily see behind the well-practiced mask his partner had hid behind occasionally after the shooting. If only for a moment he could see the uncertainty in those blue eyes, the fear and relief mixed together, the mental and physical exhaustion all the tests had left his dear friend with. And more importantly their conversation about what Starsky would do if he hadn't been allowed to continue as a street cop was still fresh in Hutch's mind.

"Not really," Hutch finally said after taking a moment to study his close friend.

"And a good thing I did too, considering that you obviously can't take care of yourself," Starsky added with a twinkle in his eyes as he nodded at Hutch's bandaged arm and the two stitches near the hairline on his left side.

The blonde part of the detective duo followed his gaze and shrugged. "He was just lucky, managed to slice through the skin that's all. I'll be just fine," Hutch assured him.

"And that's provided that you take it easy for a few days and rest," Doctor Franklin cut in.

"Don't worry about him, doc," Starsky said confidently. "I'll see to it that he follows your instructions."

Hutch shook his head in amusement.

"No offense, David but I know for a fact that you keep avoiding my carefully weighted advice to you when…"

Starsky held up a hand to stop the doctor's polite tirade. "Point taken, doc. However, this is different. It's not me we are talking about here," he said seriously.

"You're turning into a mother hen, Starsk," Hutch said.

"Well, I've got a long way to go before I turn into one of your calibre," he returned with a smirk to his partner before turning his focus on the doctor. "No offense, doc, but I do hope it'll be a long time till next time."

Franklin laughed softly. "So do I Detective, so do I," he returned.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing ;)_


	9. We Meet Again

**Chapter Nine – We Meet Again**

There was a knock on the lab door giving Judith and John just enough time to look away from what they were studying and see two familiar detectives walk through it.

"David! Ken!" Doctor Kaufman exclaimed in delight as she headed away from the microscope to greet them. "My goodness, what's happened to you?" she added as she saw the gash next to Hutch's hairline and chose to greet Starsky first.

"Watch his arm," Starsky cautioned as she gently embraced him in a hug.

"You, David, they said you nearly got killed," Judith said softly with a slight worry in her voice.

Hutch snorted as he gently shook Doctor Meredith's hand. "That's an understatement, he did die but luckily he came back," the blonde detective filled in.

"Charming," Starsky drawled. "Everywhere I go…" he sighed as he gently shook the older doctor's hand. "Can we leave that topic – like forever?"

"Sorry, buddy. I'm just glad to have you back is all," Hutch said sheepishly as he moved to give the petite female doctor a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"As for Hutch here, he decided it would be a good idea to take on a guy twice his size in a dark parking lot in the middle of the night," Starsky filled in.

"We need to have a serious chat about the kind of neighborhood you live in," Hutch returned.

"Now, we're here to retake the case from 'Hopalong Cassidy', Dave explained.

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Detectives Long and Cassidy," he informed.

Judith and John looked at each other and chuckled.

"It's not that it isn't nice to see you again but since you're here it must be a pretty serious case?" Hutch asked.

"Actually we came here for a seminar earlier in the week," Doctor Meredith explained.

"I've tried to call you, both of you several times," Judith said.

Starsky made a face. "Yeah, we've been a bit busy," he explained apologetically.

"Then we were approached by Doctor Phillips who asked for our involvement in this particular case," Doctor Meredith finished explaining.

"What have you got?" Not another epidemic I hope?" Starsky asked carefully.

"No," John shook his head. "Thankfully it seems to be the Dengue fever," he explained.

"Thankfully?" Hutch echoed with dismay.

"At first we feared it might spread by contact between humans or that it would be airborne but that's not the case," Judith added.

"Dengue fever is caused by a mosquito, well not in our country, but where Mr. Gordon has been. His rather complicated case of TBI…" John continued.

"Whoa, English, doc," Starsky cautioned.

"Traumatic Brain Injury," Judith filled in. "Daniel Gordon was involved in a serious accident a couple of years ago. The damages he received were extensive and he lay in a coma for a long time. When he finally woke up parts of his brain didn't work as they'd done before."

Hutch shuddered. "So the injury of the brain further complicated things when trying to set a proper diagnose for the virus?" he asked.

Judith smiled. "You're correct," she replied. "Since Tracy also developed symptoms we first thought it was something contagious and placed them in quarantine. However, the two strains of viruses had nothing in common and she was diagnosed with the common flu."

"Well, that's not nice either," Starsky said unhappily.

Judith carefully studied the two detectives standing opposite her for a while. "Why don't you two sit down before you fall down, you look all in," she suggested.

"No offence, doc but you don't look like sunshine either," Hutch replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

"It's been a long day," Starsky offered cryptically. "How about a compromise? There's a cafeteria downstairs, I think we could all use a break."

OOOOOO

Captain Marks set a brisk pace as he walked down the holding cells. A uniformed guard nodded at him as he neared the prisoner he had made an errand to see.

Pepe looked at him, gloated at him as he approached. "Come to release me, have you Captain?" the man asked cockily.

Mark's pursed his lips into a thin line of displeasure as he looked at the Latino. "You're free to go," he said curtly, his words clipped, hiding his disgust at the man he was setting free.

"I can't say it's been a pleasure," Pepe replied with a sleazy smile as he strutted past the Captain, following the guard towards freedom.

"But I can say it'll be a pleasure," Mark's said in a whisper, his lips curling slightly upwards, as he watched the man walk away from him.

Dobey waited until Pepe was out of sight before walking up to his colleague. "I really hope you know what you're doing. I dread to tell the mayor we had the man in custody, released him and got nothing in return," he said.

OOOOOO

Tracy Coressy grimaced at the bright light that seemed intent on invading her sleep. The sun shone brightly through the hospital window, the blindfolds having been up rolled. She felt lethargic and worn, her skin was hot and clammy but the sight that greeted her elicited a tired smile on her face.

Daniel was sitting at her bedside, hunched over a little in a light sleep.

Tracy reached for his hand and gently squeezed it.

Soft brown eyes blinked open and for a moment he looked confused until his eyes landed on her and he broke into a cautious grin.

"Tracy," he said happily.

"Should you be up?" she asked in a hoarse voice, trying to sound stern.

"Don't worry, I'm much better now," he replied.

An alarm bell suddenly rang in her head. "Daniel, how long have I been here?" she asked.

"Forty-eight-hours give or take," he said with a casual shrug. "And before you ask. No, you don't have the Dengue Fever, only an evil version of the common flu."

Tracy blinked in order to keep her eyes open then let out a yawn. A lot of things had obviously happened in those forty-eight-hours. "Is Doctor Kaufman or…Doctor Meredith around?" she asked.

Daniel's eyes skittered away for a moment, looking nervous.

"Daniel?" Tracy said worriedly.

"I'll call for them but…there's something I would like to ask you first," he said carefully.

The bed ridden nurse nodded, a faint upward curl appearing on her lips at the boyish nervousness the man sitting next to her displayed.

"I've never met anyone quite like you," he began.

Tracy rolled her eyes. "Remember I've heard a lot about you," she cautioned although her strained voice carried a teasing undertone.

Daniel chuckled. "I…guess I had it coming," he returned. "I've manipulated people, been selfish, and I picked up girl just for my own amusement. I didn't really care for half of them – they were playthings. The point is that I'm not that proud of myself the way I was before the accident."

Tracy squeezed his hand, silently encouraging him to continue.

"Then some of the caretakers started using me, well for my money and other things. Jo-Anne used me too but I let her and I even developed feelings for her. I saw in her eyes at times that she pitied me that I was just a handicapped man that needed to be taken care of – the best thing with it was that she was getting paid to do it," he finished sadly.

"Daniel," Tracy began put he cut her off.

"I meant no disrespect for the dead and I still can't understand that she's not at my side anymore," he said sadly. "I was thinking about her funeral arrangements the other day."

"Why don't we go through all that together?" Tracy suggested softly.

"I've never met anyone like you," he said again. "Are you this wonderful to every crazy guy you meet or your patients for that matter or am I just an exception?" he asked.

"I can't put a finger on it but it feels like we've known each other for a lifetime," she finally returned.

"Well, perhaps this is a little bold of me but I was wondering if there was any chance that you might want to take on Jo-Anne's job?" he asked hopefully albeit sheepishly.

"No," Tracy said seriously as her eyes locked onto his.

His face fell, disappointment evident.

"I don't want you to call it a job. I want to try and be your partner and if that means taking care of you – then yes, I would like to, as you say, have her job," she finished with a smile.

OOOOOO

Dobey looked up as he saw the familiar faces of Starsky and Hutch. The brunette was strutting down the corridor toward the duty room with a smile while the blonde was rolling his eyes at something and then looked at his partner in annoyance. They hadn't seen him yet and for a moment he contemplated whether or not he should make a hasty retreat from where he was standing in front of the candy bar machine or not. However, before he'd decided a familiar voice shouted at him from down the corridor.

Deciding to take the easy way out the captain appeared annoyed at the machine as the two young detectives approached him.

"Fat Lenny down in the archive whines about its being broken, I'm sick of hearing him," he explained.

"Pull the other one captain," Starsky drawled with an upward curl to his lips, obviously enjoying the moment.

Dobey glared at him, turning fully to face the curly haired man. "Are you accusing a superior officer of lying?" he demanded.

"Maybe bending the truth a little," Starsky replied innocently.

"Starsk, don't tease the captain on your first day back," Hutch said, containing his own grin by biting his lip.

Dobey couldn't muster his stern façade any longer, out of character, at least while at work, he chuckled slightly and shook his head. "I've missed you Dave," he said. "It's good to have you back, son."

Starsky grinned and turned to Hutch while nodding at Dobey. "See, I told you he loved me," he quipped.

"No, don't get me wrong. That doesn't mean I've missed your poorly written reports or your witty remarks around the duty room, or the chaos on your desk," Dobey countered seriously.

Starsky made a face while Hutch slapped his partner's back while grinning like a fool.

Dobey nodded toward his office, indicating that he wanted a private word with them. Within two strides all of them went into the room.

"Now," the captain began, "As of today, you're fully reinstated Starsky. That means that the two of you will once again team up as partners. You respond to your designated code Zebra Three…"

"Nothing new there," Starsky cut in.

"Almost like deja vu," Hutch replied.

"Cut it out would you?" Dobey said in annoyance. "That means that DC Rawlins will officially be appointed another partner. The assignments you two had will be transferred to him and his new partner."

"Got something better for us?" Hutch asked curiously. "I would have liked to tie up some lose ends."

"You will. I'm putting you back on the Jo-Anne Field's case and I would like for you to deal with the hospital staff when it comes to Mr. Gordon," he explained.

"Captain, I've had enough of hospitals," Starsky complained.

"If you'd stay out of trouble you wouldn't end up there," Dobey argued. "That goes for both of you," he added and spared a glance at Hutch who still looked a bit paler than usual, butterfly strips next to his hairline.

"So you have us on babysitting duty?" the curly haired detective asked with a smirk.

"You are going to see to it that Mr. Irish is behind bars and that the remains of the Octopus Corporation is shattered," Dobey said seriously as he gently swiped away the perspiration from his forehead.

Starsky straightened in the chair opposite Dobey's desk that he was currently occupying while Hutch cast a worried glance in his direction.

"Captain," Hutch began.

"You'll debrief with Captain Marks, he specifically requested your presence. Just promise me one thing – stay the hell away from the bullets," he said.

OOOOOO

To be continued

 _/Thank you for the feedback on the chapters posted ;)_


	10. The Octopus Corporation

**Chapter Ten – The Octopus Corporation**

Mr. Irish looked up, somewhat perplexed, as Pepe walked through the door to his office.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"If that's the way you greet a friend I wouldn't want to know how you treat your enemy," Pepe drawled as he made his way over to sit in the club chair opposite the bank accountant.

Deeming the remark undignified and unnecessary, Irish simply decided to ignore the Latino.

Pepe slowly leaned forward in the chair, is dark brown eyes fixing the bank accountant with an icy glare. "We need to talk," he said in a clipped voice.

"We have nothing to say to each other at the moment," Mr. Irish said nonchalantly, not looking up from the newspaper on his desk. "I shall make a complaint to the police for letting you out."

Pepe slammed his fist into the large mahogany desk in front of him causing the other man to jump. "You were nothing, had nothing when you got here," he began in a low and dangerous voice that chilled Mr. Irish to the bone. "You owe everything you are to Mr. Han and he is growing concerned about the way you're handling his business while he is away."

The statement caused the Alaska-born man to look up and meet the Latino's eyes, his pale blue eyes as cold as ice. "If it weren't for me…" he began in a low threatening tone but then his expression changed into a pleasant yet enigmatic smile and his voice turned soft. "You're right; this isn't the time or the place for this kind of discussion. We meet at the harbor, pier six at sunrise."

Pepe nodded flashing him a toothy grin. "Excellent, Mr. Andrews, I won't be late," he said referring to his real name. Pepe was one of the few who really knew it.

Irish angrily stabbed a finger at him. "Don't you dare call me that!" he returned with a raised voice.

"Till next time, James," Pepe drawled lazily as he reached for the door.

"Out!" Irish demanded as the Latino chuckled and closed the door behind him.

OOOOOO

Starsky and Hutch walked side by side through the corridors of the police department. Even though it had been over seven months since they'd been on a joint assignment it felt like yesterday. They knew each other, knew their weaknesses and strengths, knew how the other worked.

The Gran Torino was waiting for them at the front of the building, Starsky having parked it just outside the main entrance, completely ignoring the sign that said no parking. Out of respect for him the uniformed traffic cops had completely ignored the car they just shook their heads as they passed. The car was famous among the officers around the city and due to the media coverage everyone that had been watching the news at the time of the shooting had seen it. The car had been exposed and in a sense it was a bad thing. Even though the regular citizen's had forgotten the car since it was old news, it was hard to shadow the bad guys without being recognized, hard to just glide up to Huggy on the streets without someone else seeing him talk to the detectives. Hutch's old and battered car had to be used on more than one occasion but Starsky was adamant to keep his beloved car and Hutch had been going through a lot of bureaucratic crap and had too many fights with the insurance companies in order for him to get the car back from the junkyard to be able to let it go.

"Let's go partner," Starsky said with a sly grin as he walked over to the driver's side and opened the door to get in.

Hutch couldn't help but smile as he jumped in at the passenger side and reached for the microphone in front of him. He'd longed for this day; at times he'd even doubted this day would come. Here they were, he and Starsky – back together again – me and thee.

"Central this is Zebra Three reporting for duty," Hutch spoke into the radio transceiver.

 _"Zebra Three, this is central, your report has been notified – Welcome back Zebra Three,"_ the female voice said over the open channel.

"Welcome back," Hutch muttered as he put down the receiver. "I've been here a week."

Starsky laughed as he keyed the ignition and pulled the car into gear. "She meant me and thee as a whole, dummy," he said.

Hutch snorted.

"You're just a pony, blondie, a white pony and I'm the stripes – together we're the Zebra," he reasoned.

The blonde part of the duo gave the brown haired one an annoyed look as he half-turned in his seat and stabbed a finger at him. "That's beautiful, Starsk, don't you ever start with poetry or art. You obviously don't understand it," he said.

OOOOOO

Doctor Judith Kaufman smiled warmly as she stood watching from distance the unlikely partnership in front of her. The staff nurse and the TBI patient sat in wheelchairs talking to each other down in the garden outside the hospital. Both of them laughed at something.

"There you are," Doctor John Meredith said with relief, he'd obviously been looking for her for quite some time.

Judith smiled at him as he walked up to stand beside her and nodded at the couple.

"Look at them, John," she said joyfully. "I love happy endings."

He nodded thoughtfully as he followed her gaze to Tracy and Daniel. "You know I think they're perfect for each other," the older doctor said with a wry smile before suppressing a yawn.

"Tired?" she asked with a slight tease. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're getting old, John."

Doctor Meredith chuckled. "To quote Detective Starsky; you don't look like sunshine either, doc," he said.

They both chuckled at that.

Judith let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through her unruly curls. "I'm beat. I'm going to crash in the comfy hotel bed and sleep till noon tomorrow," she admitted.

"Sounds good," Meredith said with a crooked smile. "I might do something similar."

The younger doctor nodded and then turned serious, even a little sad as she gazed around the hospital garden. "I didn't get to see Bay City this time either," she said.

"Oh, wouldn't know about that," John returned with a twinkle in his eyes. "I have a feeling our friends from the police department are going to set something up."

"Yeah, I heard something's up for tomorrow before waving us off at the airport. I just hope they're not taking us to go bungee jumping or something," Judith replied carefully. "I have a feeling Ken and Dave are quite adventurous."

"I don't know, Judith. Somehow I think they've had their shares of adventures while on the job," he let on.

Doctor Kaufman narrowed her eyes at her colleague and friend. "You know something don't you?" She asked suspiciously.

OOOOOO

Mr. Irish glanced out over the glittering sea, the city lights reflection on the surface slowly being replaced by the sunrise. The chilly morning air created a light fog around him as he stood waiting at the end of the pier. He'd picked the time and the place for the simple reason that the loading and off-loading of the early shipping traffic would soon create a flurry of activity at the place where he was standing. He and Pepe would be seen but not recognized, therefore Pepe couldn't try anything without it being noticed. Yet, as a precaution he'd gathered some of his most loyal stable that was still remaining after the raid made by the police. They stood waiting at distance and at his hand signal they would eliminate Pepe because he'd become a liability and he'd gathered people in the remaining Corporation against him – claiming it was Mr. Han's wishes that he'd resign.

James Andrews, as his real name was, had always been smart, that way it had been easier to deal with the bankers, the thugs and the dealers around him. Now, everything he'd worked for, together with the man imprisoned, was falling apart. The shipments for the dealing business were being supervised by officers of the police force. Ever since Cabral had blown his cover and Mr. Han had been caught, the business had been hard to run. Dealers had proven to be snitches, contacts across the borders had turned out to be undercover police officers, and his connections with Pepe and several other people had led to the bank requesting more supervision of his work.

Yet Mr. Irish's cunningness had gotten him out of the crossfire every time and the police stood gritting their teeth, seeing red as he slipped through their fingers. However, he knew that he had to move, had to leave Bay City soon before it was too late. He'd grown courageous and too careless. The murder on Jo-Anne Fields had led to Pepe being arrested and further complicated things between them. At first Pepe had thought he'd tipped them off and they'd had a fall out but then things quieted down a bit until it lit up again – the hostility between them. Pepe had always been close to Mr. Han, even closer than he had been. It didn't sit well with the Latino who prided himself with being smart that Mr. Irish suddenly took over the running of the Corporation.

It had been a close call when the police busted through the warehouse doors at their meeting a few days ago as it turned out that yet another member of the exclusive Octopus Corporation was a police officer under cover. He had, luckily, once again gotten away from the clutches of the police force through good lawyers but he hadn't come for Pepe – perhaps that had been a mistake. He wasn't sure where he had the Latino anymore and briefly wondered if there were police officers laying in ambush for him – waiting for him to do something that could tie him to something that would finally put him away. But then he let go of the ridiculous thought, Pepe wasn't clever enough to set up such a deal. Besides, he wanted to take care of the business himself. If he went to the police about him Pepe had to expose himself and that would lead to his downfall. The man simply wouldn't risk it.

Irish was brought out of his musings as he heard footsteps drawing near from behind. He turned around, tore his gaze away from the calming sea only to set his icy blue eyes on the Latino.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly, going straight for business.

A faint smile appeared on Pepe's lips. "Why so agitated, Irish?" He asked casually. "Is your luck finally running out?"

"Stop talking in riddles, let's get straight to the point," the bank accountant suggested in a low and threatening voice.

"The point," Pepe said, looking thoughtful. "I'm not happy with the way things are going. You managed to slip out again, Irish, but you obviously forgot to pick me out of the slammer."

"Why would I?" He asked innocently. "As far as the police are concerned we are mere acquaintances and very loosely acquaint."

"Like I said, James, you where nothing when you got here," Pepe returned coldly.

"And like I told you," Irish took a step forward, invading Pepe's personal space, stabbing a finger at him. "I've doubled the…" he caught himself realizing Pepe might be setting him up."…profit."

"You've exposed the entire Octopus – not just a tentacle – to the police," Pepe returned, his voice raised. "Mr. Han should never have taken you under his wings, James."

Irish had always had a hefty temper; he curled his hands into fists at his sides. "James Andrews died many years ago…"

"Hence the birth of Michael Irish and the newfound richness your father found when your life insurance paid out," Pepe added. "A smart move of Mr. Han."

"Is there a reason why you're dragging up the past?" Irish questioned angrily.

"He called you Irish because of your luck – but luck doesn't last forever," Pepe cautioned.

"I told him you were a liability," Irish seethed. "But Mr. Han was very fond of you. I don't know why I have put up with you this long." A cautious smile widened into a grin. "Goodbye Pepe."

Pepe frowned as the man opposite him suddenly raised his hand in the air and turned to leave. Then he felt a sickness to his stomach as realization finally hit him – not long before the bullets did.

OOOOOO

"What the hell…" Starsky mumbled as he glanced through a pair of binoculars from a distance as Hutch fiddled with the radio receiver in his hand.

"Mother goose," Hutch said calmly into the walkie-talkie, "This is the hen. The shit is gonna to hit the fan."

 _"This is mother goose. We're all set,"_ Marks responded.

Hutch nodded although he knew the captain couldn't see him and then turned to his partner. "Let's go Starsk," he commandeered.

However, his curly haired partner made no move as he intently stared into the binoculars. Starsky watched DC Bell and DC Tullo, all dressed in black, as they made their way out of a storage department closer to the pier. The hair at the back of his neck rose as he realized they were walking straight into an ambush.

"Hutch, it's a set up!" Starsky hollered after his partner, who thankfully hadn't got very far.

Hutch quickly backtracked and crouched next to his partner as the air crackled with gun fire.

Starsky directed the binoculars back toward Irish and Pepe just in time to see the Latino take a hit and slowly go down.

People seemed to pour out of every corner, police officers and goons. A chill ran down Hutch's back as he, out of the corner of his eye, saw a brief reflection of a gun. Without thinking he threw himself at his partner trying to shield him as a bullet sizzled past their heads, embedding itself in the rock they were hiding behind.

"Like damn flies, all over the place," Starsky muttered as Hutch slowly got off him. "Are you all right?"

Hutch met his concern with determination. "Yeah," he whispered. "Let's go find Irish."

The young yet seasoned detective duo carefully scanned their surroundings and then headed toward the direction in which Irish was last seen. Running like crazy, covering open ground they finally ended up behind a large wooden crate waiting to be taken aboard a freighter.

Starsky ducked as splinters rained down on him from above. "Cover me," he said, slightly out of breath.

"I have a better idea, why don't you cover me?" Hutch returned as he took off.

A string of well-chosen words left the curly haired detective's mouth as he fired off a couple of shoots, drawing attention, while watching as his blonde partner crossed the area between two large steel containers. He spotted one of the goons firing at his partner, missing his shoulder by inches, the bullet pinging against the steel container. Highly concentrated he aimed and fired, within seconds the man fell down to the ground from his cover and remained unmoving – Hutch had made it.

Starsky then froze as a bullet smacked into the wooden crate only inches from his head.

"Starsky, get down!" A somewhat familiar voice urged.

He ducked and spun around only to watch DC Rawlins taking out a goon that had him in the line of fire, effectively ending the man's life and at the same time saving Starsky's.

The curly haired detective was at once caught up in a flashback. Everything around him zooned out to be replaced by the police parking area.

 _Hutch smiled at him, threw some witty remark about the food and then stiffened he glanced behind him._

 _"Starsky, get down!" His partner suddenly shouted._

 _Dumbfounded, adrenaline pumping through his body, he turned around, his hand reaching for his gun – everything too late. For a few seconds the world seemed to slow around him. He saw the police car, he saw the uniformed officers in it and the automatic rifle pointed at him and Hutch. He didn't have time to think, didn't have time to get away, he steeled himself for what was to come as if it alone would prevent the bullets from impacting his body._

 _They ripped through his skin, tore his flesh, drilled into his body, shattering his insides as they did so. His mind tried to understand what had happened but the trauma was so great that he quickly lapsed into unconsciousness. His last coherent thought was that he was going to die as Hutch desperately shouted his name. He felt hands on him and the wetness on his chest, something trickling down his back. He tried to formulate a sentence, tried to tell Hutch he was sorry but he didn't have the energy to do it._

"Starsky!" Rawlins called worriedly as he rushed up to him. "Are you all right?"

The detective sergeant nodded, forcing himself back to the present, it was neither the time nor the place for memories.

"Thanks, I owe you one," he said in appreciation as he slapped the young detective constable on the shoulder and headed toward his partner, trusting Rawlins to lay cover for him.

Hutch nodded at him as he came to a halt next to him behind the steel container. Without a word, since they knew each other inside and out, they moved forward and into the magazine closest to them.

They crouched behind a stack of crates and then began to move into the dark building. It was old and worn down but still in use. The silence was deafening and a stark contrast to the gunfire outside. Carefully the detectives made their way through the building, Hutch taking the lead. The blonde came to an abrupt halt as a stray bullet suddenly smacked a window a bit further down – perhaps it was a sign as it led the two goons awaiting them behind a crate to reveal themselves. This time Starsky shoved Hutch out of the way and then rolled away, his weapon pointed in the direction of the black clad men and fired. Hutch wasted no time in helping his partner as he too aimed his gun and fired.

It was in that instant Mr. Irish realized that his luck had run out. He quickly headed toward the back entrance of the magazine, picking up the gun from one of the fallen men on the way. He didn't fire at the officers because he knew if he did they would most likely kill him in self-defense and he knew that the two remaining men in the building would make life difficult for them.

"Freeze, police!" Hutch shouted, causing the bank accountant to stiffen and halt in mid-step uncertain of his next move.

"Hutch!" Starsky shouted desperately as he caught yet another black clad man in is periphery vision.

At the same time Marks and two of his men busted through the door Irish was closing in on. Wasting no time, Starsky aimed and fired, taking out the man that had Hutch in his line of fire. However, at the same time unbeknownst to the curly haired detective another man trained his gun on him.

Hutch froze as he turned around and saw what was about to happen. He lunged for Starsky's legs and tackled him to the ground just as the shot rang out from behind. The momentum carried both detectives over a wooden crate, Starsky falling backwards with Hutch on top.

The magazine or storage compartment as it really was became deadly quiet. The gunfire outside had stopped, the goons clad in black lay on the ground, unmoving, Mr. Irish had been handcuffed and Captain Marks opened the well-oiled door, nodding at his detective constables to take Irish outside. The captain cast a worried glance in the direction he'd last seen the two detective sergeants, whose partnership had turned somewhat legendary in the Bay City police force.

Captain Samuel Marks felt his mouth go dry as he swallowed and uneasily began to make his way over to them. He couldn't see them because they were out of his line of vision and he dreaded what he might find. As he drew nearer he heard voices.

Hutch waited until he thought it safe then carefully, painfully, rolled off his partner and grimaced. He'd somehow managed to reopen the knife wound on his arm and felt the warm blood trickling down beneath the bandage and his head ached. Doctor Franklin hadn't been kidding when he'd said that he wasn't really up for any action just yet and that he suggested bed rest. Hutch shook his head as if to clear it and worriedly cast a glance at his partner who still hadn't moved beside him.

"Starsk?" He whispered, dreading to check him for injuries. He wasn't sure he could handle his easy going, childlike partner being hurt again so soon. The images from the last time were still too fresh in his mind for his liking.

"Starsk!" He tried again as he gently took him by the shoulders, his voice stronger, worried.

"I'm fine," he mumbled and then slowly blinked his eyes open.

Hutch still wasn't convinced, he'd heard that before. He gulped as he saw a hole through the black leather jacket. With shaky hands he gently pulled the jacket aside to check his partner for injuries, letting out a sigh of relief when he found no blood on the light blue shirt beneath it.

"Get off, Hutch," Starsky drawled as he firmly grabbed his partner's hands in an attempt to stop what he was doing. He eased himself into an upright position with a grimace and reached up to rub the back of his neck. "What were you trying to do anyway – give me a concussion?" He whined.

"Tried to keep you out of danger, dummy," Hutch chided as he let his curly haired friend get up on his feet, giving him a helping hand. "That guy behind you was out for your blood."

"Yeah, well," Starsky shrugged casually as he dusted off his crummy blue jeans. "Suppose I was too busy trying to save you a trip to the hospital to really pay attention."

"Are you sure you aren't hurt?" Hutch asked in disbelief as Starsky gingerly bent down to pick up his Beretta.

Starsky stopped midway as he caught sight of the bullet hole through his jacket. "Damn, that was new," he muttered. "Cost a small fortune."

Hutch chuckled, slapping his friend and partner in crime on the back. "It's just a leather jacket, Starsk. I'll gladly buy you a new one," he said relieved.

"Hutch, your arm," Starsky began worriedly.

"It'll be fine," he assured him.

Captain Marks laughed with relief as he saw the two detective sergeants stand on their own next to each other. "Starsky, Hutch, are you okay?" He asked.

They looked at each other, both smiling.

"We're fine, captain," Starsky drawled. "Hutch just needs to have his arm redressed."

"The ambulances have arrived so that can easily be arranged. I take it you both have had enough about hospitals?" Marks said.

"You got that right, captain," Hutch returned then turned serious. "Everything set?"

Samuel Marks nodded. "Mr. Irish is being whisked away as we speak and this time there will be nothing any fancy lawyer can do to save him," he returned. "Some of the guys have been injured pretty badly but I don't think there's anything life threatening – at least not on our side. Some of Irish men are dead, some are injured, some are talking, and some are clamming up. All in all I believe that was the last of the eight tentacles of the Octopus."

OOOOOO

To be continued


	11. Revelations

**Chapter Eleven – Revelations**

Doctor Judith Kaufman squinted at the bright sunlight in the late afternoon as she and her mentor stood waiting outside a famous coffee shop.

Despite her intentions of actually seeing Bay City Judith had gotten little chance to do so and this was supposed to be sort of a compromise from her two detective friends. Since Judith had a very soft spot for ice cream and there happened to be a renowned place in the city that specialized in ice cream, and a variety of coffee drinks, Hutch had suggested that they'd meet there. That way she got to enjoy the ice cream and at the same time visit something famous.

Tara's Coffee Corner, as the name of the place was, was renowned around half the state. It was even present on certain postal cards.

"John, look at all these flavors," Judith said joyfully as she turned her gaze toward a notice board next to the stand where they were supposed to order.

Doctor Meredith chuckled, his colleague looking like a kid in a candy store. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so relaxed and he had to admit that he too felt invigorated and refreshed after everything that had happened. And of course, a good night's sleep had helped.

He was about to ask Judith if she'd heard anything from the detective duo when a candy red Gran Torino with a white stripe came around the corner with screeching tires and came to a full stop next to the sidewalk a few meters behind them.

Having been a passenger in that particular car once, a few years ago, Judith immediately recognized it. "Here they are," she said happily and walked toward them.

Starsky got out of the driver's seat and glanced over the roof at his partner as he too exited the car. John saw the deadly serious look on both detectives' faces and silently wondered what the previous conversation had been in that car. However, as they turned toward the waiting doctors they both put on a smile, looking like there wasn't a problem in the whole world.

Judith, oblivious to what John had witnessed, gave Hutch a bear hug and whispered something in his ear that made the blonde detective chuckle.

"I can't for the world understand what you see in that guy," Starsky teased, earning himself a glare from the young doctor as she moved over to him.

John stepped aside; having shaken hands with the curly haired detective, as Judith carefully gave him a gentle hug, her eyes involuntarily drawn toward the scar that was partly visible through the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

"I'm not made of glass," Starsky complained causing Judith to give him a tight squeeze of the shoulder as she let go of him.

"I'm sorry we're late," Hutch apologized. "Got into a sticky situation."

"I have a feeling you two do that all the time," Judith said softly as they all began to walk toward the counter. "Do I want to know?"

"Nope," Starsky drawled.

Ten minutes later the four of them headed for a more secluded spot at the end of the row of tables. They sat down, each of them too engrossed in their ice creams to speak until Judith finally broke the silence. Her voice was soft, yet it carried a careful curiosity as she laid eyes on Starsky who sat next to his partner opposite her and her colleague.

"Dave, I know you don't want to talk about it but I have to ask," she began and saw the detective take a deep breath as if steeling himself for something. "What happened?"

He glanced down at his ice cream, weighing his words carefully. He'd talked through the shooting with a psychologist but only because he'd been forced to and he'd avoided the subject when Hutch had tried to bring it up. Perhaps it was time to let go now.

A ghost of a smile danced on David Starsky's lips as he slowly lifted his head and locked his mesmerizing blue eyes with Judith's. "Hutch and I busted a large organization, a consortium, led by a powerful man called James Gunther," he began seriously.

"He sent his henchmen to assassinate us," Hutch cut in angrily as he stabbed the plastic spoon in his ice cream. "We didn't have a chance. They waited for us in the backyard of our own precinct, dressed like regular uniformed officers."

Starsky saw the anger and guilt emanating from his blonde partner as he spoke up and suddenly he was thankful for Judith's question because Hutch needed to talk this through as much as he did.

"I had nowhere to go and, unprepared as I was for what was to come, I acted too slowly," Dave explained, sounding weary all of a sudden. "I was hit three times by automatic gunfire."

Judith shuddered at the calmness in Starsky's voice, seemingly devoid of any kind of emotion, as he delivered the statement.

"I wish I'd been the one to drive that day," Hutch said darkly.

"What for?" Starsky asked, annoyance at his partner's self-recrimination seeping into his voice. "So that you could have taken my place? Is that it?"

Hutch sighed, looking away from his partner's stare.

Angry at Hutch for bringing it all upon his shoulders to try and protect him he continued in a clipped voice. "I'm no good at waiting. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to see you stuck in that hospital bed a few years back? Not knowing whether or not Callendar would turn up so that these two could save your sorry ass?" Starsky finished with a nod toward Judith and John.

"Still I wish I could have…" Hutch began.

Starsky glared at him. "You're not listening to me," he interrupted. "I'm not sure I could have handled being in your shoes. If it had to happen I'm glad it turned out the way it did so stop that self-recrimination of yours. It ain't good for the soul."

"Listen Starsk," Hutch began in a dangerously low voice.

Starsky promptly took his ice cream and smacked it dead center at Hutch's nose. "Now that ought to shut you up, at least for a while," he said and broke into a grin, tired of all the seriousness.

Judith and John couldn't do anything else than to join in.

Then Starsky got serious again. "It hasn't been a walk in the park. I was dead for two minutes. I only remember bits and pieces of conversations from the time directly after the shooting. I had no recollection of what had happened at first and I couldn't grasp what day it was," he explained, his voice placid as he threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Hutch stared at his partner. He'd tried so many times to get Starsky to talk about what happened but he'd always deflected it.

"I couldn't even shift in bed without setting some frayed nerve end on fire. It was hell, literally," Starsky admitted. "As I grew stronger - not that it felt like it at the time – the good drugs was cut down a little by little."

Hutch braced himself, it hurt so much just to hear his partner admit to the pain he'd felt.

"When I finally felt it was tolerable to lie still in the hospital bed it was time for my first appointment with the physiotherapist," Starsky added, shuddering involuntarily as he thought back to that particular moment. "I remember her encouragements as I managed three steps before falling over. She thought I was doing fine. Perhaps it was then I realized what lay ahead of me."

Hutch gently placed a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder, silently encouraging him to go on.

"I wanted to crawl under some rock or something, just to get away," Dave continued with a nervous chuckle. "I dreaded every time the nurse came to tell me it was time to change the bandages."

"Dave, I'm so sorry. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through," Judith said softly.

Starsky nodded. "I think it was the third week or something. I can't really recall but I was really proud because I managed to walk down the corridor outside my room and look out through the window. It was raining that day, the sky was littered by heavy storm clouds but it didn't matter to me, it was beautiful," the curly haired detective said with a hint of fragility in his voice.

"You didn't tell me," Hutch said, his voice no more than a whisper as he glanced at his partner sadly. "It must have been the day before I got permission to take you out in the yard."

Dave turned to look sideways to his blonde friend. "Wasn't that important," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, since then I've cursed physical therapy many times. I've laughed and I've cried, I've been angry. The ironical thing is that the further my treatment progressed the more questions arose."

Doctor John Meredith nodded knowingly. "Would it be possible for you to recuperate to the extent required to retain your job?" He stated. "And even if you could physically, would you be able to cope psychologically due to the trauma you'd experienced?"

Starsky nodded with a faint upward curl to his lips. "Those where almost exactly the concerns shown by the police department," he let on. "After three months and countless of physical therapy sessions I received a letter. It was a condolence letter and a recommendation to hand in my badge for an honorable discharge from the service."

Hutch angrily let go of his partner's shoulder and turned his hand into a fist in his lap.

"I had my ups and downs but – I don't know – that letter sparked something in me, some final determination," Starsky admitted.

Hutch chuckled. "He called me later that evening and asked if I wanted to take a jog," he said.

"My doctors wanted me to reconsider my decision. They didn't believe I would hold given the extensive damage I'd received. The first bullet impacted my shoulder. It still bothers me from time to time, not much fortunately and not enough to be cause for concern. The second bullet hit me dead center and nicked my heart. The third bullet entered my left lung and left it scared. I will never be able to get back those last four percent of the lung capacity that is missing."

Doctor Meredith nodded, his lips unconsciously pursed together into a thin line. He suddenly got a much better picture as to why Doctor Phillips had called the detective a miracle patient. You simply weren't supposed to survive what he had done.

"I've been gone for seven months. As of two days ago I was reinstated in the service as a plain clothed detective sergeant. Even though that's a victory I still have demons to battle but I'm getting better. However, as much as I want to be, I'm not the same person that I was before," he finished truthfully.

Hutch stared at his partner. There it was, the simple truth. It had taken seven months for his curly haired friend to finally open up to the extent that he could share those thoughts.

The psychologist had told him that Starsky would go through several phases as part of the healing. Hutch had seen him angry, really angry and frustrated. He had seen him cry and then laugh. Some days had felt like an emotional rollercoaster. But his partner had refused to share his inner thoughts, until now.

Hutch felt drained all of a sudden. Everything seemed to catch up with him. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed for Starsky to tell him what he just had.

"You in there Blondie?" Starsky asked. "You seem miles away."

"I was just thinking. Does that mean you don't want burritos for lunch anymore?" He said with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"If you think for a minute that I'll happily eat whatever vegetable dish or whatever it is you prefer…" he began.

Hutch couldn't help but to roll his eyes and then broke into a grin. He was glad to have Starsky back with him again. However, he would still keep a very close eye on his curly haired friend out on the streets. Hutch knew that Starsky didn't want to be overprotected, didn't want him to step in harm's way for him. His partner was a grown man, capable of taking care of himself, strong as an ox and stubborn as a donkey.

"Enough said about that," Starsky said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's with you three anyway? You look like you've attended someone's funeral," he complained.

"No," Judith shook her head. "I was just thinking that perhaps you need a break," she said cunningly. "Alabama is nice this time of the year and…"

"…And I have a large house," John filled in with a smile.

Hutch laughed softly. "You're going to regret that invitation," he said.

"Speaking of Alabama, we better get you to the airport soon," Starsky cautioned.

"Another ice cream first?" Judith asked hopefully.

OOOOOO

The end

 _/Thank you for the reviews, the alerts, favs and PM: s. I hope you liked the story. I've never written anything connected to Starsky and Hutch before so I was a bit nervous before posting it but it's been fun. I don't think I'll write another one though, I'm settling for reading and reviewing._


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